Paper Trails
by Jessica237
Summary: [SC] She'd always deserved the truth. Sequel to: Almost Honest. Complete.
1. Connection Made

**Sequel to Almost Honest, and the second part of the Paper Trails series. Like its prequel, there are numerous mentions of episode 3x01, Lost Son. Timeline is about a year after the events of AH, and there are six pieces to this part of the story. Nothing recognizable belongs to me.  
**

* * *

_Letters left a paper trail. A connection. And connections had a way of making everything just a little more complicated.  
__-from: Almost Honest_  
-----

It was a grey day in early September, the promise of rain imminent on the horizon. Throughout the morning, the low rumble of thunder had echoed in the distance, seemingly in no hurry to close in over the city and bring a temporary relief to the already oppressive heat. It was only just past noon, and the possibility of several more hours without that relief was not something Calleigh Duquesne was looking forward to.

It was with a contented sigh that she pushed open her front door, feeling the cool air hit her still-flushed face. She didn't often drive all the way home just for lunch, but on a day like today, a sandwich in the lazy comfort of her own home was far preferable to hitting a drive-thru with the guys.

Not that there was anything wrong with the guys; quite the contrary. Delko had always been one of her closest friends, Cooper was fun to tease, and Wolfe…well, Wolfe was growing on her. But sometimes it was nice to get away for a little alone time, especially this time of year…

As she padded into the kitchen, Calleigh set her keys and the day's mail down on the counter, as her eyes strayed immediately to the calendar on the refrigerator. For the past couple of years, September had been a rough month; it was just a month with so many attached memories, so many attached regrets.

It was a transition month - it was the month in which Calleigh's words, her deepest feelings, had shifted from temporarily unvoiced to forever unspoken.

She could still remember the last conversation she'd ever had with him. If only she'd known it'd be their last…

Calleigh shook her head, willing those thoughts away. It had been three years ago; there was nothing now that could be done about it. It was past time to move on, to let go, to…try and forget.

Letting out a breath, Calleigh busied herself with her mail. Quickly she thumbed through it, nothing more than the usual meeting her eyes. Electric bill, junk mail, bank statement -- Calleigh grimaced; she liked her mail tidy, and to her dismay, stuck to her bank statement was another envelope. By what, she didn't know; but it did take a fair bit of tugging to unstick the two envelopes without ripping either.

The bank statement was fine; it was the other letter that had Calleigh frowning. Her name was scribbled carelessly on the front of it; the stamp placed lopsidedly in the top right corner. There was no return address, Calleigh realized with a raised eyebrow. The only possible identification, aside from the sticky handprints, was the postmark - a small town somewhere in Minnesota.

The untidy scrawl on the envelope was vaguely familiar, but for the life of her, Calleigh could not imagine who it could be.

Her curiosity grew as she made herself a sandwich. Any explanation that reached her mind seemed to contradict itself. If it were a business letter, then obviously it wouldn't be sticky, nor would the address be scrawled so carelessly on the front of it. If it were a letter from a friend, it would've had a return address on it.

It could always be blackmail, or a threat from a released convict, but somehow, Calleigh knew that wasn't the case. She knew that the letter wasn't ill-intentioned, despite whatever logic might tell her.

Sandwich made, she poured herself a glass of sweet tea and sat down at the counter, again taking the envelope in her hands. There was just something about the penmanship that called out to her; something about the curvature of the capital _s_ in her street name; something about the slight tilt of the _4_ in the zip code.

She'd seen this writing style before.

And as there was nothing helpful on the front of the envelope, the only way to find out where it'd come from was to open it.

Very carefully, Calleigh peeled the envelope open. Maybe the sender hadn't been too careful with it, but for some reason, Calleigh couldn't bear to damage it at all. There was a slight shake in her hands as she gingerly lifted out the folded letter, noticing that it too was rather sticky in spots.

She unfolded the letter, revealing a page more of that inexplicably familiar writing. With one hand, she lifted her glass to her lips. It was then that her eyes strayed to the bottom of that letter, to the signature. Stunned, it was all Calleigh could do not to choke on her sweet tea.

All those familiar letters, the penmanship that she knew all too well, every unanswered question prompted by the sloppy envelope - it all seemed to converge at the end in one, all too familiar name.

"You are going crazy," Calleigh murmured slowly to herself. She shook her head and cast the letter aside for the moment, as though convinced it would disappear, like a figment of her imagination. She _had_ been working quite a few late nights lately; she was sleep-deprived. That had to be it. There was just no other explanation as to why she had just opened a letter from a man who'd died three years ago.

It just didn't make sense.

Unnerved, Calleigh turned her focus to opening the rest of her mail and eating her sandwich. Her bank statement; now that was nothing out of the ordinary. Scrupulously she had kept track of her spending, and the numbers were just as she'd expected them to be. Her electric bill, however, wasn't exactly what she'd expected. To her dismay, she realized that her bill had gone up yet again.

It was irritating, but not completely irrational. No, irrational was currently on her countertop, just a few inches to her right. With wary eyes she cast a glance toward the letter before reaching almost savagely for the final piece of mail, some junk mail about a sale at a local car dealership. It was the type of thing Calleigh would normally toss to the garbage without reading, but today she read through it from top to bottom.

But there was only so long that she could contemplate the absurdity of getting a free gas card for buying a brand new car. Sure, gas was expensive, but it was still cheaper than buying a whole car. Calleigh _hated_ these little pieces of junk mail, but today, she would only be too happy to have a thousand more of them, just for the distraction.

It wasn't until her sandwich was gone and her glass half-empty before she made herself reach out once more for that letter. She picked it up slowly, almost as though afraid it would burn her.

Her hands trembled slightly as she lowered her eyes to the paper, biting her lip in both anticipation and fear. What could this mean? How could this be possible? The questions poured into Calleigh's mind like water into a bowl, threatening to overflow.

It was with a deep breath and a pounding heart that she, ever so slowly, began to read.

_Calleigh, _

_I'd try to be polite and ask how you were, but I figure it's just a waste of space and time, since you'll never read this letter anyway. A question expects an answer, and I don't like unanswered questions. So I just won't ask. _

_But I can wonder, though, and that I do. A lot. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder how you're doing. If you're still the world-famous Bullet Girl; if you're still at CSI; if you're still the same, beautiful woman I remember you to be. I wonder if you've stopped spending so damn much time in that lab, because there's more than just work in life. _

_I wonder if you've met anybody special. Some days, though it kills me to think it, I imagine you happy and in love, maybe married to some rich stock broker, or to someone who shares your insane love of guns, or even to, I don't know…Delko. He always did have that crush on you. And now that I'm being honest, I can finally say it annoyed the hell outta me. _

Calleigh gave a smile, though still she was skeptical. The writing was definitely Tim's, and the words were definitely what she'd wished one day to hear from Tim himself, but never really expected to hear. Only, there remained the one nagging doubt penetrating her mind.

How was this possible? Tim died three years ago. He was shot in the chest. He bled out. Alexx performed the autopsy. And then…the funeral. Calleigh could still see that day so clearly in her mind, as though it were yesterday. She remembered the sheer strength it took to hold her tears at bay; to be the one strong pillar of their splintered team, should Eric or Horatio need something to hold on to.

She had examined his gun herself. She had written the report; she had been the bearer of bad news. She had been the one to make the call of weapon malfunction, rather than poor gun maintenance. Tim didn't deserve to be remembered as the cop who didn't clean his gun, twice.

Remembrance. In Calleigh's mind, it was a word used solely with regard to one's death. Death, not life.

Timothy Speedle had _died_.

And yet, Calleigh held in her hand the very words of that man; words which had arrived in an envelope that had been postmarked only two days before.

The only thing to Calleigh that made sense at the moment was to read on.

And so she did.

_I saw something from the corner of my eye today. It was a flash of long blonde hair, so like yours. For a second, I kind of hoped it might be you. Crazy, yeah. I know. What would you possibly be doing up here in the middle of nowhere? Even I can't stand it here, but I keep telling myself it's not so much the cold air and the mountains that I hate, but the fact that you're not here with me. _

_God, if you were actually getting these letters, I imagine you'd be quite sick of reading the same things over and over again. But then again, you always did like predictability, so maybe it wouldn't be so tedious after all. I know writing them never gets old. All the letters in the world could only scratch the surface of what I've always felt for you. _

_Now, the sappiness - that does get to me. Count yourself special; there's nobody else I'd pour my heart out to like this. But then again, it does say something, the fact that I can only do it because I know you'll never read these letters. Yes, it's cowardly, but at this point, there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. It's not like I can waltz back into your life and just tell you I love you, though you've no idea how much I want to. _

_It was something at which I was once a pro - leaving. People and places get old. Staying in one place for too long was never a good thing to me. I've done it all before - packing up and leaving friends, family, mentors, and homes behind. But in being forced to leave Miami, I had to leave something I'd never had to leave before. Suffice it to say I grew attached to you, Calleigh. Let's face it; you're beautiful, you're smart, you're funny. You're pretty much the perfect woman. Of course I grew attached to you. I think I started falling in love with you the very first day I met you. _

_And then, there was the last day I ever saw you. You know, the day I pissed you off by stealing your crime light. The day I was going to tell you how I felt, but then I chickened out. And the day I supposedly died. Obviously I didn't. But sometimes I wish I had. Because other than being with you, dying would be the only way to make this pain go away. _

_I thought it'd be easy, Cal. It always has before. But there's just something about you that's different. Something about you that keeps you on my mind day and night. You don't know how badly I miss you. _

_I'm so sorry I could never give you the truth. About everything. You deserved that much. You didn't deserve to be lied to. _

_I don't want to close this just yet - I could write to you all night. It's the only way I feel connected to you. But it's getting late, and I'm gonna have a hell of a hangover in the morning as it is. I promise you, it's not the tequila talking. I think all the other letters I've written to you would be proof enough of that. _

_I love you Calleigh. I love you, and I wish more than anything that you could know that. _

_-Tim _

It was with shaking hands that Calleigh laid the letter back on the countertop. Those same, shaking hands lifted themselves to Calleigh's temples, rubbing them in circles before raking through her hair in…in what, exactly? Frustration? Confusion? Anger? She had no idea what she was feeling.

But there was one feeling that easily made its way to the top of that stormy sea of emotion: an intense feeling of longing. A longing to hear his voice. A longing to feel his arms around her, even though they'd only exchanged accidental touches in the past. A longing to feel his lips on hers, even though she had no reason to believe his kiss would be any different than any other.

Above all, Calleigh longed to see him again.

But it was impossible! Just as impossible as receiving a letter from him, just as impossible as the idea that he was still alive somewhere.

She'd seen the blood at the scene. She'd seen the casings, the bullets. She'd seen the _science._

She'd seen his casket lowered into the ground.

She'd been to his grave numerous times; she'd seen the pristine letters carved into the marble, spelling out his name.

Calleigh knew he was dead. It was irrational; impossible.

It was with that firm thought that, after setting her plate and glass in the sink to deal with later, she grabbed her keys and marched out of the kitchen, ready to head back to work.

But as the clouds above finally broke, sending a cascade of rain toward the ground, Calleigh found herself slipping back into the kitchen, under the pretense of making sure she'd turned the lights off. And this time, on the way out, she paused long enough to tenderly slip the single piece of paper into her purse.

Impossible or not, it felt nice to have a part of him with her.


	2. Logically Speaking

The rain persisted throughout the afternoon, tapering off into a lingering drizzle, not heavy enough to be considered rain, but not light enough for one to venture out without an umbrella either. It had done its part in breaking the stifling heat, but all Calleigh could be bothered to notice was a slight chill, though she'd be hard-pressed to believe it was left behind only by the rain.

It had tainted her thoughts for the rest of the day, that letter. For the moment, she had allowed herself to stop wondering about the hows and whys, choosing instead to fall into the realm of fantasy; not a place she often visited.

But then again, it wasn't often - or ever, really - that the day's mail brought a much needed shock to her heart; a heart she'd thought had been buried with Tim. And so, she let her mind wander.

What was he doing right now? Where was he? Might he be thinking of her, as she thought of him?

Calleigh didn't know anything about Minnesota, other than it had plenty of trees and lakes. The word that came to mind was rural; and while not the adjective she'd first associate with Tim Speedle, she had no difficulty imagining him, zipping down one of those backwoods, country roads on a new Ducati. He obviously hadn't been able to take his with him, but Calleigh had no doubt that he'd gotten another. She couldn't see him without it.

In turn, that line of thought brought her back to the first and only time Tim had given her a ride on his bike. It brought a smile to her lips; Calleigh could still see the glint in his eyes as he teased her, riling her up. At the time, Calleigh had just been defensive, but afterward she'd realized that Tim was quite well-versed in reverse psychology. He'd gotten under her skin, because he knew it would only lead to getting what he wanted.

He'd wanted to take her for a ride. She'd declined. But once he started teasing her, it became imperative to Calleigh that she prove him wrong. So while she'd sat behind him, arms looped tightly around his waist, she'd worn a smug smile on her lips; all the while not realizing that Tim wore the same smug smirk.

For all the time over the past three years that Calleigh had spent trying to forget Tim, it all seemed to come back to her in droves after reading that letter. And there was no hope of clearing her mind of him - even if she'd wanted to - since she couldn't seem to put that letter down.

The dreary, grey afternoon found Calleigh lounging on the breakroom couch, enjoying a bit of free time while waiting for Alexx to retrieve the bullet from their latest victim. Were it any other day, Calleigh would've scoffed at the idea, but today, she would happily take any break she could get. It meant more time to reread each and every word in that letter; it meant more time to digest every little nuance, from the scrawl of every letter, to the unmistakable signature at the bottom of the page. If she concentrated hard enough, she would swear the paper carried the faintest trace of the scent she'd come to associate only with Tim. She'd had three years to forget that scent, and yet, the tiny bit that clung to the paper, which might've only been in Calleigh's imagination, still sent Calleigh's heart racing.

Her view of the letter was suddenly obstructed, and Calleigh breathed in sharply. After blinking a few times, the object came into focus, revealing itself to be a hand waving in her face. With great effort, she finally pulled her eyes away from the letter, lifting them enough to bring Eric's grinning face into her line of sight.

His grin widened once he finally had her attention. "About time," Eric teased, his eyes flickering only briefly to the paper in her hands. "You were a million miles away."

"I was not," Calleigh defended, willing her cheeks not to redden. She hated being caught in a daydream; absolutely hated it.

Eric smirked. "Then why have I been calling your name for the last five minutes with no answer?" he asked, leaning casually against the wall.

"Maybe I was ignoring you," Calleigh retorted. She attempted a defiant glare for good measure, but found herself unable to keep a straight face. "Okay, fine," she conceded, rolling her eyes. "I was thinking about something. Until you interrupted me," she added playfully.

Eric gave an apologetic shrug, though the teasing sparkle in his eyes was anything but remorseful. "I'm sorry for interrupting your daydream," he smirked as Calleigh glared at him once more, "never mind the fact that you _are_ at work."

Calleigh opened her mouth to protest, but Eric cut her off. "Besides, you can't blame me," he said smugly. "It's Alexx that was looking for you, not me." He grinned. "Apparently somebody's ignoring their pages too."

"You're just hilarious today; you know that?" Calleigh replied sweetly, stretching as she stood from the couch.

Eric chuckled. "That's funny; Speed always said the same thing." He didn't notice the way Calleigh's smile faded; instead, his eyes were drawn to the paper she clutched in her hand. "What's that?" he asked curiously, tilting his head toward it.

Calleigh froze. "Oh, it's just…" She couldn't very well say it was nothing, because that would be too painful a lie. She sighed, deciding on the truth, though only part of it. "It's a letter."

"Oh," Eric replied, seemingly uninterested. Calleigh breathed a sigh of relief, continuing her way to the door, only to stop again at Eric's next words. "From who?"

It was a question with an answer too complicated for words. Calleigh couldn't be truthful, because, in the deepest parts of her mind, she couldn't deny there was a bit of skepticism there. Did she truly believe it was a letter from Tim?

Emotionally, yes. But logically? She wasn't too sure.

She couldn't just brush it off and say it was from nobody. That would be about as painful as calling the letter nothing. She could say it was simply from a friend…if the phrase _just a friend_ didn't threaten to tear her heart in half. She could tell Eric to mind his own business, but he was every bit the little brother she considered him to be. Telling him it was none of his business would only pique his interest. Calleigh had no problem imagining Eric taking that letter straight from her hands, and holding it up in the air where she couldn't reach it; a teasing grin on his lips the entire time. He really was her best friend, but sometimes he could be absolutely insufferable...

Biting her lip, Calleigh quickly decided on an answer in her mind, one that wasn't exactly a lie. "It's from…someone I haven't heard from in a long time."

At least that much was true.

----------

By the time she made it down to the morgue, Calleigh had managed to bring a smile back to her lips. Up close, she knew it might not be convincing, least of all to Alexx, but it was something.

But even while Alexx was standing in front of her, talking directly to her, Calleigh couldn't keep her mind from wandering. Alexx simply shrugged it off, but when Calleigh didn't seem the slightest bit interested that she'd found the bullet in the victim's body, she couldn't keep from worrying. "What's wrong with you today, sugar?" she asked, pausing to give her full attention to Calleigh.

Calleigh gave a deep sigh, forcing what she hoped was a believable smile. "It's nothing, Alexx. I'm fine." Mentally she kicked herself for being distant again, especially in front of Alexx.

Alexx lifted an eyebrow, giving Calleigh her most penetrating stare. "Honey, you and I both know that's a lie," she said, smirking as Calleigh shrugged and looked away. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her eyes back to the body on her table, continuing her task of easing the bullet out. "Here's your bullet," she said, dropping it into a basin and handing it to Calleigh.

Her eyes alight once more, Calleigh took the basin from Alexx. She lifted the bullet to her eyes, examining it intently. "Medium caliber," she murmured, her smile returning. "I'll have to run it through IBIS to be sure, but I've got a suspect on ice whose gun's a perfect candidate for this bullet." A couple more seconds passed in silence as she continued to inspect the bullet, before dropping it into an evidence envelope. "Thanks, Alexx."

"You're welcome, sugar," Alexx replied, her concern growing when Calleigh made no move to leave. Something was definitely bothering the blonde, but Alexx had no idea what it might be. She busied herself with the body on her table again, sensing that Calleigh was merely trying to work up the nerve to talk about whatever it was. It was just before the silence shifted from companionable to awkward that she finally took a deep breath, speaking in a would-be casual voice.

"So, I got this letter today," Calleigh began, biting her lip anxiously. Part of her hoped Alexx wouldn't take the proverbial bait, but the other part of her desperately needed to hear her take on it. She needed Alexx to tell her she wasn't losing her mind; that the idea that had been forming in her head since her lunch break was completely, ridiculously, _absurdly_ impossible.

Alexx glanced at Calleigh. "And?" she prompted, not quite seeing the issue. People got letters all the time. Sure, sometimes they were less than pleasant letters, but they were only letters.

Calleigh let out a deep breath. This was harder than she'd thought. But what was so difficult about it? Was it only hard to bring this out into the open? Or was it something deeper?

Or maybe it was only a matter of selfishness. The letter had come to Calleigh; perhaps she just didn't want to share Tim with anybody else.

She felt Alexx's eyes on her, and she knew it was now or never. "It was from somebody…" Calleigh faltered, suddenly very interested in the patterns on the tile floor.

Alexx couldn't help but chuckle. "Honey, most letters_ are_ from somebody," she pointed out gently, grinning nonetheless.

Calleigh closed her eyes, smiling embarrassedly. "Of course they are," she murmured, prompting another chuckle from Alexx. "But this one…it wasn't just from somebody."

Alexx didn't push. She knew Calleigh well enough; she knew pushing would only push her away. Instead, she simply waited.

Calleigh wanted Alexx to ask. She didn't want to have to say it herself, but she knew she was going to have to. She'd brought it up. She looked up, feeling an immense calm wash through her as she took in the caring look in Alexx's eyes. With another deep breath, she continued. "It was a letter from somebody…someone I know to be, well," she hesitated, the words sounding rather strange even in her mind, "dead."

"Calleigh…" Alexx began, but Calleigh waved a hand, cutting her off.

"I know, I know. Dead men tell no tales, right?" she joked, attempting a weak chuckle. "Or, write letters, as the case may be." She fidgeted with her gloves, absently picking at them. "I don't know, Alexx. Maybe I need sleep. Maybe I need a vacation. But there was just something about that letter…it's all I've been able to think about all afternoon."

An inexplicable weight had dropped itself into Alexx's stomach. She wouldn't say she knew where it was going, but she had an idea. While she didn't know everything about Calleigh's personal life, there was only one person whose death had affected her as deeply as she'd been affected. She swallowed, preparing herself for the answer. "Who was it from?"

Calleigh hesitated, but when she spoke, the certainty in her voice, though it was little more than a whisper, was unmistakable. "Tim Speedle."

Alexx's reaction was not the one Calleigh had expected. Calleigh had expected her to laugh, to call her crazy, to tell her it was downright impossible. But what Calleigh got was exactly the opposite.

Quickly, Alexx gripped the side of the table, willing herself not to fall over in shock. Her heart had skipped a beat as soon as his name had left Calleigh's lips. Her eyes locked on Calleigh's, she asked the question, though she was already sure of the answer. "Are you sure?"

Calleigh bit her lip, giving a halfhearted shrug. "It was his writing, Alexx. His signature."

Worry sprang up within her; worry, and a bit of anger. This whole debacle - Alexx still couldn't bring herself to think of Tim as dead, whether it might be true or not - had taken place to ensure Tim's safety. His life had been in danger, and while Alexx herself had never been given the details, she knew it was serious. It had to be serious, if the only way of protecting her boy was, in essence, to kill him before he could be killed.

And now, after three years, he was compromising that? After every clandestine effort to safely remove him from Miami, he was now risking all that to send a letter to Calleigh?

Not only was he jeopardizing his own safety, but Calleigh's as well.

Sure, the Tim she'd known was risky. But he'd always known what he was doing.

_Why would he do this? _

Alexx's silence sent alarm bells ringing in Calleigh's head. "Alexx, come on," she pleaded, giving a nervous chuckle. "You're supposed to tell me I'm crazy. That I'm imagining things. That it's absolutely impossible." The firearms evidence now completely forgotten, Calleigh took a few steps back, giving herself room to breathe. Alexx's silence was past nerve-wracking; now it was just downright painful. "You performed the autopsy, Alexx," Calleigh added weakly.

Her silence broken, Alexx shook her head slowly. "Do you think I could have _ever_ stood here and looked at him like that, coroner to victim? He was family to me, just like you and Eric and Horatio." She paused, willing away the growing lump in her throat. "I could've_ never_ stood here and cut Timmy open."

"But -"

"There was no autopsy, Calleigh baby. It was a pre-written report." Alexx closed her eyes, remembering. She'd stood over him, a scalpel in her hand only for show. She'd counted on Horatio not being able to stand there and watch; otherwise, it would've all been for naught.

Calleigh was floored. "But…but we buried him. There was a funeral. We all went to the funeral!" Her heart was pounding; it seemed logic had deserted her the very moment she needed it.

"Honey, maybe you should sit down," Alexx suggested, though it came as no surprise when Calleigh shook her head, refusing.

Her mind was racing, as was her heart. How could she ever be expected to process all this? Even when Alexx laid it out before her, it still didn't make sense to her. Deep within her mind, the voice of reason still remained, still chanting the words that should've rendered it all impossible. _Timothy Speedle had died._

Sharply biting her lip, Calleigh breathed in deeply, trying once more to find the logic in all this. Everything in her mind needed to cling to that sliver of common sense, but it seemed it could not be found. Even with all the science, all the logic in the world, could Calleigh really dismiss in her mind what her heart somehow already knew to be true? She lifted her eyes, gazing straight into Alexx's brown ones. "He's really…alive, isn't he?"

Alexx didn't have to say a word. All the answer Calleigh needed was right there in her eyes.


	3. Funeral for No One

It was the pathway of familiarity; the trail she'd walked numerous times during her lunch breaks or after a long day at work, and countless more times in her dreams. She knew the path like the back of her hand; she knew where the ground was flawlessly flat, and she knew the location of every little bump caused by tree roots or rocks beneath the soil. She'd walked that path so many times that she would swear that the grass where her feet always fell stayed a little flatter, a little less green than all the grass around it.

Many times she'd been here, but never before had it been quite like this.

All those times before, she'd come here to mourn.

But today, Calleigh had come for a different reason. In her confusion, it was the only place that made sense enough to come to. After all, she _had_ thought he'd been there for the past three years.

The afternoon's drizzle had since dissipated; the clouds clearing just enough to let the sun peek through as it began to set in the western sky. It cast an orange, hazy glow over everything, a glow that was almost eerie in the quiet of the cemetery. The heat of the day had gone, leaving a pronounced chill in its wake, or perhaps that was just Calleigh. She'd spent a bulk of the afternoon trying to warm up; it was as though a cold weight had settled in her stomach, the chill reaching the very tips of her fingers.

The sidewalks and roads had dried, moisture remaining only in the crevices and cracks in the concrete. Elsewhere it was a different story though; droplets of water continued to glisten on the grass and trees. That lingering dampness in the grass was the only thing that kept Calleigh from lowering herself to the ground, like she had so many times before. Or maybe it wasn't only the dampness; maybe it was what she had learned earlier. Despite what the damp marble said, Timothy Speedle did not lie there beneath the ground.

All those times she'd come here to be closer to him, and he was never really there at all.

Honestly, Calleigh didn't know what she should feel. Elation? Hurt? Anger? Given the time, she knew that each of those would show itself eventually; but for now, Calleigh still felt no more than the confusion she'd felt earlier while talking to Alexx.

--

_Her head spinning, Calleigh finally took Alexx's advice and took a seat, suddenly afraid not to. She wasn't sure how much longer she could stand; she had taken in too much too quickly. Shakily she pulled her gloves from her hands to rake her fingers through her hair. "He - he told you." _

_It felt like a betrayal, almost. Alexx had known. Tim had known, obviously. How many others had known about his supposed death? And how many had been left in the dark like her? _

_Quickly, Alexx shook her head. "No, baby. The Feds had to brief me. The only time Timmy ever said anything about it to me was when I'd bring it up. And even then, he didn't talk about it unless I pressed." _

_Calleigh nodded slowly, still trying to process it all. Tim, her Tim, alive. It had only been too easy to believe he'd died. He'd failed to clean his gun in the past, and he'd faced the consequences of that. Then, at least, the Kevlar had been enough to protect him. _

_And then Calleigh had taken on the impossible task of testing his weapon. It was her job to find out the truth; a truth that would cause her crushing pain. Her life's work was ballistics, and she quite prided herself on that. But it was that day, as she inspected the inside of Tim's gun, that she first seriously considered giving it all up and walking away. _

_The very objects with which she worked every single day had nearly taken the life of…what did she consider Tim to be? Colleague sounded too professional, but she didn't know if they were really friends or not. Now Eric was a friend, but what she felt about Tim wasn't exactly friendship. It was so much deeper than that, but whatever it was, Calleigh had never really gotten the chance to find out. _

_That first time, it had been neglect. Neglecting to clean his gun had nearly gotten him killed. It had happened once; who was to say it couldn't happen again? _

_She hadn't wanted to believe it. But it was only too easy to believe that the same thing had happened again. He had a history of not cleaning his gun. The evidence had been before her, a second time. And no matter how she looked at it, she knew that evidence couldn't lie. _

_Could it? _

_Yesterday, the answer would've been a vehement no. _

_But that was before the idea of incorrect evidence, incorrect logic, led to the reality of Timothy Speedle being alive. _

_Suddenly, her mind shifted once more to the last time she'd spoken to him. Their last conversation; the last time she'd seen him alive. He'd been bothered by something, but Calleigh had shaken it off. He'd come to her to apologize for stealing her crime light, and Calleigh had only assumed he was worried she was actually mad at him. After all, he'd told her himself that he didn't want her to be upset with him. But now that she thought about it, Tim had seemed rather preoccupied. _

_And then she remembered. _

_He'd wanted to tell her something. _

_Had he wanted to tell her the truth? _

_It was a question to which Calleigh might never find the answer. _

_She felt a hand on her shoulder, and slowly she forced herself to look up at Alexx's worried face. "What else did you know?" Calleigh asked, before Alexx could ask if she was alright. _

_Alexx sighed. "Not much. I knew that his death would be faked, though I didn't know how until it happened. I knew that I would have to pretend to begin an autopsy, and keep it up for as long as anybody else was watching. And I knew that once he walked out of this very room, he would be safe." _

_Suddenly feeling rather weary, Calleigh lifted her hands and rubbed at her eyes. She still couldn't wrap her head around this. "So all this time…he's just been spending his nights in front of a cozy fire or something in Minnesota?" _

_Alexx gave a small chuckle. "Minnesota, huh?" _

_Calleigh blinked. "Yeah. You didn't know that?" _

_"I told you, honey. I only knew what I had to know. I didn't know where he would end up or what he would do once he got there." Alexx shook her head, slightly amused. " Minnesota. That poor boy. One of the many reasons he ended up here was to get away from the cold winters." _

--

For the longest time, Calleigh simply stood, her eyes locked on the cold marble below. Defiantly it stared back, daring her to defy logic; daring her to ignore its meaning.

In all respects, it was a grave. It was in a cemetery. There was a headstone. There was a casket buried beneath the earth. There had been a funeral.

All that was missing was a body. All that was missing was an actual, real death.

Her knees threatened to give out, but Calleigh used her remaining strength to stay on her feet. The grass was still wet, and she was already chilled enough. She had no doubt she'd be shivering if she took a seat on the grass.

Not that she wasn't shivering already, but this at least wasn't from cold.

Like every time before, Calleigh took a deep, steadying breath, preparing her words in her mind. She knew the truth now; she knew Tim wasn't here, but she still felt compelled to talk to him as though he were. Talking to him had always made her feel connected to him in the past. Would it really only work if she thought he was near her?

She had to try. If nothing else, at least the words would be in the open, and not weighing so heavily on her heart.

"I got your letter," she began softly, a small smile touching her lips. "I admit, it threw me for a loop. How could it not? I mean, for three years I've believed you were dead. It was a shock to find a letter from you in my mailbox. I really didn't believe it at first."

She closed her eyes as she continued. "I didn't know what else to do, or where else to go. Every time I've wanted to be near you, I've always come here. But you've never been here. All this time, you've been…" she let out a shaky breath, shivering lightly in the breeze. "All this time, you've been alive."

Crossing her arms, Calleigh bit hesitantly at her lip. "And I'm so grateful for that; to know you're alive, and safe…" she trailed off. She _was_ grateful. Through all the years she'd lived, and all the people she'd lost, there was no death that had shaken her more than Tim's.

Only, he wasn't dead. He was alive, a fact which opened the door for thousands of questions; questions that would, in all likelihood, remain unanswered. How was Calleigh ever supposed to know where he was? There'd been no return address on the envelope; there'd been no address or phone number in the letter itself. She yearned to see him again, but it hurt deeply to know that it wouldn't be possible.

In her mind, one question stood out among all the others, and Calleigh knew that if she could have one answered, just one, it would be that one.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Calleigh sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm still a little confused," she admitted. "I still don't know what to believe. There was blood. And your gun - I examined it myself." She gave an involuntary shudder, remembering the pain that had overtaken her as she realized what had killed him.

Flashes of the funeral crossed her mind; she could see it as though it were happening all over again. She could hear the deafening shots of each round in the twenty-one gun salute. She could smell the almost overpowering scent of freshly mown grass; she knew that it was a scent that from now on, she would forever associate with that day. She could feel the slight, almost imperceptible shaking of Eric's body as she gripped his arm for support, and then even more as he pulled her into his embrace, the one time that she hadn't resisted his comfort, knowing that he'd needed it too.

The funeral still on her mind, Calleigh lifted her eyes skyward, watching as it slowly darkened as the sun dipped below the horizon. "So what did we do that day?" she asked, blinking away her tears, but unable to stop the tiniest of sniffles. Her bitterness, her pain at being left in the dark was finally starting to break through the surface. "Did we have a funeral for no one? Did we just bury an empty casket that day?"

"Well, it wasn't _exactly_ empty."


	4. Back to the Beginning

_He wasn't sure which was worse; the throbbing pain in his head, or the dull, continuous pain in his back. But at least the pain in his head was manageable; as long as he didn't move, he could stomach it. _

_But that was the problem: he could deal with it only as long as he didn't move. As long as he didn't move, he remained on his back on the couch where he'd slept the night before. Why? In his half-awake state, the reason eluded him, not that he tried very hard to find it. That would just make the pain worse. _

_This couch had never been good for Tim's back. And after sleeping on it, it was as though with every breath he took, a knife was slowly being twisted into his back.  
_

_His eyes still closed, Tim simply lay there, enduring the pain; pain that only seemed to intensify as the last wisps of sleep completely left him. It was his own damn fault; why shouldn't he face the consequences, no matter how painful? He was the one who'd tried to chase away his heartache with a bottle of tequila the night before; he deserved the headache. He was the one who had fallen asleep on the couch; he deserved the backache. _

_He deserved the pain that coursed through his body every time those thoughts of her would cross his mind. But unlike a headache or a backache, that was not pain that could be lessened with a couple of pills. It wasn't even a pain that faded away over time; quite the contrary. With every day that passed, it grew more and more intense. It was like no pain he'd ever felt before, but then again, he'd never fallen so deeply in love with anyone else before. _

_In the beginning, Tim had hoped it would fade. After all, he wasn't seeing her every single day anymore. He didn't get to hear the sweet lilt of her voice anymore. He wouldn't pass her in the hallways anymore; no longer would he be taunted by her intoxicating scent; no longer would her soft blonde locks call out to his fingers. _

_He would never get to see her again. And though he knew it would hurt, he had thought that perhaps being away from her would allow his heart to heal. He could move on. _

_Never before in his life had he been so utterly wrong. _

_His heartache hadn't faded in the slightest since he had left Miami; since he had left Calleigh. He hadn't seen her in three years. And while his heartache refused to fade, the same could not be said about his memories. _

_Despite how tightly he tried to hold on, Calleigh was slipping away from him. In the beginning, her face never left his mind. But as the days went on, it was becoming harder and harder to remember her beautiful smile, the way her green eyes never failed to sparkle, her scent, her voice - it was getting harder to remember her, and that only seemed to tear what was left of Tim's heart into smaller and smaller pieces. _

_The only thing that ever seemed to help was writing the letters. Putting his thoughts on paper helped him remember; while his pen skated across the paper, he felt connected to her in some way. While he was writing, he didn't linger on the fact that she would never read his words. He didn't linger on the fact that once he slipped the letter into the envelope, it would make a quick trip to the fireplace, or to the shredder if it were a warm summer night, too warm for a fire. _

_As the year had only just slipped into September, of course it was too warm for a fire, and had been for quite some time. Normally, Tim preferred the warmth of summer to the dead cold of winter, but in his mind he found it more poetic to watch the words of his heart burn away in the fire than to slip them in the shredder and watch them be ripped into neat shreds in less than a few seconds. _

_But the night before, he had done neither, to the best of his knowledge. As far as he knew, he'd left the sealed letter he'd written the night before on the coffee table in front of the couch._

_Hadn't he?  
_

_A rush of dread surged quickly through Tim, and, fully awakened at last, his eyes shot open. Big mistake, that. He'd neglected to close the blinds the night before, and the late morning sun was shining through with a vengeance. Lifting a hand to block out the light, Tim gave a groan, clenching his teeth as he rose to a sitting position. He rubbed at his eyes as a tired yawn escaped him. _

_The more he thought about the letter, the more uneasy he became. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't exactly remember what he had done with it. With one hand acting as a shield, Tim finally opened his eyes, groaning as the sunlight still managed to blind him.  
_

_But the sunlight and the pain in his head became the least of his problems. As his eyes focused, a cold weight dropped into his stomach. _

_The letter he'd hoped he'd find on the table was not there. _

_Calmly at first, he reached out and moved the few magazines that littered the table. Why he'd kept them, Tim didn't know; he'd never really read them. The only purpose they served was to clutter up his coffee table. He allowed himself a chuckle; that clutter wouldn't last five seconds if Calleigh were around. _

_As soon as it'd come, his moment of amusement dissipated again and his uneasiness returned, increasing as he realized the letter was not hiding beneath anything on the table. Head and back pain forgotten, Tim jumped up from the couch, surveying the surrounding area. Yesterday really had been a bad day, if the condition of the floor around the couch was any indication. It wasn't exactly messy; it wasn't sloppy, it was just…cluttered. Disordered, like a desktop. _

_But Tim knew without even looking that there was no letter anywhere in that disordered mess. On the floor beside the couch resided a couple of pens, some extra paper, and the empty tequila bottle, but no letter. Frustration mounting within him, Tim raked his fingers through his unruly hair, trying desperately to remember what had happened the night before. _

_It was ironic, really. He couldn't be the man who got drunk and woke up with a strange woman in his bed. No, he had to be the man who got drunk and poured the deepest secrets of his heart onto paper. A paper which he obviously couldn't keep track of. _

_With a groan, he racked his brain, ignoring the returning pain in his head. But much of the night remained a blur. He remembered sitting down on the couch. He remembered starting the letter; he remembered the pain that shot through his heart as he began writing. It was unbearable, even worse than the physical pain he was currently in. _

_But Tim had been in no shape for emotional pain last night. It was getting to be that time of year again; a time of year filled with regrets, with sorrow. That pain ate at him deeply enough; he didn't need any more, and so desperately he'd tried to dull that pain.  
_

_He remembered skulking into the kitchen, and emerging minutes later with a bottle of tequila. He remembered the way he'd welcomed its burn in his throat; he remembered the blessed numbness it seemed to assemble around his heart. _

_It was a numbness that crumbled though, as the deepest desires of his heart seeped their way to the surface. _

_He remembered writing; his memory clung to every single word of that letter. But the details from there were fuzzy. Vaguely he remembered finding the tequila bottle empty, though he hadn't been sure if he'd drunk that much or if he'd spilled that much. He did remember jarring the bottle by accident; he did remember scowling at the stickiness it created.  
_

_Vaguely he remembered slipping that letter into an envelope. But he didn't put the pen down like every other night. Instead, he continued writing, formulating an all-too familiar address on the front of the envelope. _

_Vaguely he remembered walking outside, into the cool night air -- _

_Outside. Tim's breath caught in his throat. It had been past midnight, but he certainly remembered going outside. And for what? _

_The answer was obvious. What did anybody do with a stamped, addressed letter? _

_Late last night, his mind in a tequila induced haze, Tim had slipped on a pair of shoes and taken the letter outside. He had taken the letter outside and slipped it into the mailbox, along with a credit card payment he'd been meaning to mail for awhile. After that, he'd come back inside and obviously gone to sleep on the couch, though he didn't quite remember that part. _

_Cursing under his breath, Tim heavily lowered himself back to the couch, his face in his hands. If anything, he should've expected something like this would happen. He'd tried to lessen the pain, the pain he knew he deserved, and in the end, he'd only caused himself more pain. _

_Not to mention he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. He'd actually mailed one of his letters to Calleigh. In a few days, she was going to open her mailbox and find a letter from a man who'd been dead for three years. And, if she believed what she was reading, she was going to realize that he wasn't actually dead. _

_And if she dug far enough; if she went to the right people, Tim knew it wouldn't take long for her to deduce the truth. She was intelligent; it was one of the things Tim had always loved about her. But at this point, it was the one thing that could work against her. _

_The Calleigh he knew never stopped looking until she found an answer. She was persistent, and, in Tim's memory, very persuasive. With that beautiful smile and adorable accent of hers, she could coax the truth out of anyone - it'd certainly worked on him enough times. _

_But if she was too persistent; if she asked around too much, Calleigh could end up putting herself in danger. All because Tim had selfishly needed to ease his heartache. He hadn't understood it at the time, and it still didn't make much sense to him, but apparently it'd made sense to somebody. He'd been working a high profile case alongside the Feds for a few years, a case which all of a sudden went south. A lot happened in a short amount of time, and, according to the Feds, Tim had been in serious danger. Honestly, he'd thought it sounded ridiculous. It just didn't make sense that the only way to stay alive was, in every respect, for him to die. _

_Everyday, without fail, he'd questioned whether it was worth it. He'd lost his identity. He'd lost his friends, his home. He'd lost a job that, while he'd shrug it off as "just a paycheck," he'd actually enjoyed it. He'd had to sever all contact to everybody he knew, in order to keep his secret, as well as to keep them safe. Above all, he'd lost the one woman he'd ever honestly loved. _

_If he'd known what it would be like to lose all that, he would've never gone along with the plan. Why did he really need to stay alive anyway? Death would've been preferable to living for nothing. _

_And besides, if he'd really died, he wouldn't be able to spend every night pining after a woman he'd never see again. He wouldn't be writing her letters; there would be zero chance of her ever receiving one. And if she never received a letter, there would be no question in her mind that he was really dead. She wouldn't be in danger, just from wondering if he was really alive or not. _

_He wasn't worried about her knowing, exactly. He wished she could know everything; it was why he wrote the letters. He was worried about her wondering. She was, after all, Calleigh Duquesne, and, just like Tim himself, she didn't like unanswered questions. He was worried about Calleigh wondering, and quite possibly asking the wrong person. After all, Tim knew if he'd received a letter like that, it would eat at him until he did figure out the truth. _

_If something happened to her because Tim got drunk and sent a letter to her, he'd never be able to live with himself. _

_He didn't know how he was going to do it, exactly, but Tim knew he had to get that letter back, before Calleigh could read it. _

_An idea struck him, and once more he shot up from the couch, again groaning in pain as both his head and back protested. But Tim ignored it as best he could and slipped on the same pair of shoes he'd worn the night before. Quickly he made his way to the front door, throwing it open with a little more force than was needed. An unwelcome blast of sunlight had him squinting his eyes, but like the throbbing in his head he ignored it, mentally crossing his fingers as he strode toward his mailbox. _

_Maybe the mail was late today. _

_There was always a chance the letter could still be there. Maybe it had stuck to the bottom of the mailbox.  
_

_"Please let it be there," Tim muttered, reaching the mailbox. With a shaking hand he gripped the door, and with a deep breath, he yanked it open. _

_But like the bottle of tequila, it was empty. _

_Again he cursed quietly, slowly closing the door of the mailbox. For a moment, Tim let the severity of his predicament set in. His letter was somewhere in the mail system, possibly already on its way to Miami. On its way to Calleigh; his Calleigh; his Calleigh who, in a couple of days, would know that he considered her "his" Calleigh. _

_His Calleigh, who, in a couple of days, would know that he was alive. _

_Frustration mounting, Tim slammed his hand against the side of the mailbox. He'd really screwed up this time. _

_But…maybe there was something he could do. _

_He knew he couldn't intercept the letter before it got to Miami. But perhaps he could beat it there. Maybe he could beat it there and get the letter out of Calleigh's mailbox before she ever even saw it. And since Calleigh would be at work, it was a flawless plan, really. _

_With a sigh, Tim turned away from his mailbox and headed back inside to pack a change of clothes and to call the airport to book a flight, since it looked like he was headed back to Miami. _

_By the time he was ready to leave, Tim had planned everything. _

_Only, he'd neglected to plan what he would do if he was indeed too late. _


	5. Lead the Way

_The funeral still on her mind, Calleigh lifted her eyes skyward, watching as it slowly darkened as the sun dipped below the horizon. "So what did we do that day?" she asked, blinking away her tears, but unable to stop the tiniest of sniffles. Her bitterness at being left in the dark was finally starting to break through the surface. "Did we have a funeral for nobody? Did we just bury an empty casket that day?" _

_"Well, it wasn't exactly empty." _

**-- **

Calleigh's heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat, and for all she knew, the world might've stopped as well in that very moment.

She hadn't heard that voice in three years. Three years, and yet, there was still no mistaking to whom it belonged. No other voice had ever made her heart flutter in her chest; no other voice had ever given her the chills like that one. After three years, that voice still made her melt.

But it couldn't be real. _He_ couldn't be real. His voice was only in her imagination, right?

And then, Calleigh turned around. She turned around and promptly lost the ability to move.

There he was, standing merely a few feet in front of her. Tim Speedle, the man who had died three years previously, and yet, here he was. Standing, breathing, _living…_

Her eyes locked with his, and the electricity that passed between them in that simple gaze was incredible.

The thought crossed Calleigh's mind, that if she were an actress, and her life a movie, this would be the part where she'd lift a hand to her forehead before fainting, collapsing gracefully into Tim's arms, because of course he would've called her name and rushed forward in enough time to catch her. And then, as she awoke, her eyes would lock with his, and upon her lips he would place the sweetest, most romantic of kisses…

Sometimes, Calleigh thought she might be in the wrong profession.

The crunch of footsteps on grass pulled her from her thoughts, and she breathed in sharply as she realized Tim was approaching her. She couldn't move; she couldn't speak. She couldn't even organize her thoughts in her mind; no way was she going to attempt speaking.

Calleigh didn't know what to do. She didn't know whether to step back a few steps, or if she should run forward and jump straight into his arms. That didn't matter though; she couldn't move if she'd wanted to. Frozen to the spot, she could only stare in shock as he meandered toward her.

He was a few steps away when Calleigh realized his eyes were no longer on her. They were trained lower, to a spot slightly behind and to the left of her, and Calleigh knew he was looking at his headstone.

Beside her he paused, his arm only briefly brushing against hers. The lightest touch, and yet it was more than enough to start a cloud of butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach. Trying to regain her control, Calleigh breathed in deeply, but that only served to unnerve her even more as that deep breath brought to her nose his scent, the one scent that always left her head spinning.

Ever slowly, she turned toward him, conscious of her shaking knees. His body was angled toward hers, though his head was clearly turned toward the stone. Calleigh stared unabashedly, taking in his as always casual attire, his trademark stubble, and his slightly unruly hair. Her heart was turning flips in her chest, and her fingers itched to thread themselves through his hair as she pulled him down for a kiss.

And if the silence had worn on any longer, she knew she would've done just that. But before she could get up the nerve, Tim had to break that silence himself with a shot of sarcasm.

"You know, I'm glad to see they spelled my name right," he quipped, his eyes glancing quickly to Calleigh. "I'd have to argue on the death date, though, since obviously, I'm not exactly dead."

Calleigh stared. Did he really come here to comment on his headstone?

There was no way this was real. If it were real, Calleigh liked to think she would've done something other than stand around gaping like a fish. She would've said something; she would've done something. She was never, ever so out of control of her emotions, her reactions, and therefore, this just couldn't be real.

But then, Tim looked once more into her eyes, deep into the depths of her soul. And for the first time, he gave his trademark smirk before proceeding to read Calleigh like an open book.

He knew she was having trouble believing that he was standing right in front of her. She wouldn't be Calleigh if she weren't. He knew logic was telling her one thing, but that her eyes, and perhaps her heart, were telling her something completely different. Tim would just have to prove her logic wrong, then.

"I know what you're trying to do. I promise you, Calleigh, I'm real." To punctuate his words, he closed the distance between them, reaching out to cup Calleigh's face with his right hand. To his delight, Calleigh's eyelids fluttered slightly as she leaned into his touch. "I'm not in your imagination. I'm real."

Calleigh felt her knees wobble slightly. "So if I close my eyes, you won't disappear?" she whispered, the first words she'd been able to string together in his presence, though her words were barely audible.

Gazing deep into her eyes, Tim gave a rare, though genuine smile. "Why don't we test that theory?" he whispered low, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Ever gently, he touched his forehead to hers, tempted to let his own eyes fall closed. He felt Calleigh let out a shaky breath and, unable to fight it, she allowed her eyes to flutter closed, trusting that Tim wouldn't disappear like she had feared.

It was that display of trust that did it. Tim had been able to hold himself back until then; he'd been able to slowly sneak up on her; he'd been able to stand before her for all those agonizing seconds, but if was the fact that she trusted him that snapped his control. She trusted him, even though he had lied to her before.

Unable to deny the need anymore, Tim slowly lowered his head, his own eyes closing as he dropped his lips to hers, kissing her softly.

And with that single, gentle kiss, Calleigh's world came alive with sensation. She couldn't stop the small whimper of surprise that escaped her as his lips touched hers for the first time. Her heart pounded in her chest, and fireworks exploded behind her eyelids as her every sense, her entire being was flooded with Tim.

This was what she'd been craving for three years; no, for far more than three years. This was what she'd _needed_. And it was no less than perfect.

As his lips moved against hers, his stubble brushed against her skin, sending shivers through her entire body. His hand had left her cheek, sneaking around and into the silkiness of her blonde hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. The other arm slipped around her waist, pulling her body against his. Her head was spinning, her lungs burning; but that didn't stop Calleigh from happily parting her lips for him with a soft moan as she felt him gently nip at her bottom lip.

Her hands snaked their way around his neck, needing him closer to her, and at the same time needing something to hold on to. It was a miracle that she hadn't yet crumbled into a tingling heap on the ground.

She never wanted to break this kiss. Unfortunately, oxygen soon became a dire need for both of them, and it was reluctantly that Tim pulled away first, not missing Calleigh's displeased whimper. Her eyes still closed, Calleigh attempted to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed and her hair slightly tousled. She was adorable - and still every bit the woman Tim had fallen for so long ago.

Her eyes opened, revealing the sparkle that always set Tim's heart racing. It was all he could not to just grab her and kiss her all over again. He almost did as he watched her tongue slip from her mouth, nonchalantly licking her lips.

And then, finally, the sound he'd waited for; the sound that had haunted his dreams for ages. It was only one word, barely murmured, but it was nonetheless her sweet voice.

"Wow…"

"And finally she speaks," Tim said quietly, a smirk at his lips. "I was wondering if you were ever going to say anything."

"Can you blame me?" Calleigh asked softly, the shock of what was happening still setting in. "Until a few hours ago, you were dead. Dead. Dead, as in under the ground, as in not alive."

"Yeah, I think I get it."

To Tim's dismay, Calleigh swiftly turned her back to him, taking a few steps away. How was she ever supposed to process all this? It was too much being thrown at her too quickly; there were just too many emotions fighting within her. Shock, relief, happiness, frustration…

It was the frustration, however, that pushed its way to the forefront, and though she tried, Calleigh couldn't quite keep it from bubbling over. She _was_ frustrated; she was tired, angry. And above all, she was still absolutely confused.

With a groan, she rubbed her temples, feeling something within her snap. Shaking her head, she lifted her gaze skyward. "You know - how - how could you do this?" Calleigh hissed angrily, though to Tim, her hurt was far more evident than her anger. He reached out to her, but as soon as he touched her shoulder, Calleigh spun around again. "How could you?" she repeated, shoving at his shoulders.

Slightly shocked, Tim stumbled backward a couple of steps. He could feel his own anger bubble up in part of him, and that part only wanted to engage her in a shouting match. But the rest of him; most of him still only wanted to take Calleigh in his arms and keep her there forever.

Cautiously he stepped forward again, flinching as Calleigh glared at him. "Calleigh, I'm-"

"You're what?" Calleigh challenged, cutting him off. "Sorry?" She stared at him for a moment, the hurt in her eyes blinding. "Do you know what you did to me? To all of us? We thought you were dead, Tim! We went to your funeral! Do you know just how much it hurt to know I would never see you again? Do you know how much it hurts that you lied to me?"

The last question was spoken on a shaky whisper, and Tim could feel his heart breaking, yet again. Did she not know the heartbreak he himself had gone through?

Taking advantage of her momentary silence, Tim reached out, attempting to take a hold of her shoulders. "Calleigh…"

"No." She forced his touch away from her, as he'd known she would. Calleigh tried to turn away from him, but Tim reached out again, not letting her move. "Let me go, Tim!" she struggled, though only halfheartedly.

Tim only tightened his grip on her shoulders; he couldn't let her go. Not now. "Calleigh, please." He could hear the desperation in his own voice, so he knew Calleigh could. But that didn't matter because at that moment, Calleigh stopped struggling with him.

Her eyes, however, were trained resolutely to the left, refusing to meet his gaze. "Calleigh," he murmured softly, "look at me."

Calleigh frowned, but made no effort to shift her gaze. Tim gave a deep sigh; he didn't like talking to her if she wouldn't even look at him, but it appeared he was going to have to do just that. "Calleigh, I promise you I'm sorry. I do know it hurt you. I do know that you're upset. I do know that I'm an ass."

That did it. The corner of Calleigh's lips twitched; her eyes softened, and finally, she shifted her eyes, meeting Tim's dark ones head-on. "I didn't say that," she said softly, feeling her anger dissipate. After all, she'd never been able to stay angry at him in the past either.

Tim smirked. "You wanted to. And it wouldn't have been too far from the truth." Calleigh opened her mouth, but Tim quickly shook his head, silencing her. "Let me finish, okay?" Finally satisfied that she wasn't going to turn and run, he brought one hand to her cheek, gently cupping her face. "I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to, but I do realize that I did."

He breathed out deeply, closing his eyes only for a second. "But do you not think," he began, each word accented by his heartache, "that it hurt me too? I was the one who had to leave everything behind. I was the one who knew you were still out there. I was dead to you. You could move on. You could…forget."

"Forget?" Calleigh whispered, the disbelief evident in her shaky voice. "You think I could forget? Do you have any idea what I go through every time September rolls around?"

"I think I do, yeah," Tim replied quietly. "Regret. Misery. Sheer pain." He sighed. "It's what I've dealt with every day for three years. Calleigh, I swear I never meant to put you through any of that. It's why…it's why I couldn't tell you."

Calleigh shook her head. This was just beyond being too much to process; at this point, she just didn't understand. "You couldn't tell me you were alive, because you thought I'd feel better if I thought you were dead?"

"Point taken," Tim conceded. "It does sound ridiculous when you put it that way. But you have to understand where I'm coming from. I was standing in front of you, knowing full well it would be the last time I ever saw you. I tried to tell you. I wanted to tell you. But I couldn't, and it wasn't just because I wasn't supposed to. I knew what I would go through, knowing you were over a thousand miles away from me. I didn't want you to go through the same thing."

"So it was better to leave me in the dark?" She searched his eyes, desperately trying to understand.

"Cal…"

"I wanted to leave ballistics when I processed your weapon, Tim." Calleigh paused, taking a deep breath. "I had to stop what I was doing and go for a run to keep from losing it right there in the lab. I think it might've made it easier if I had known that you hadn't died because again you didn't clean your gun. If I had known, I wouldn't have blamed myself for not saying something to you every now and then about cleaning your gun. If I'd known you were still alive, I wouldn't have had any reason to feel like a part of me had been buried with you that day!"

Tim felt terrible. Being with her now, everything was finally being put into context. If her words, if what he saw in her eyes was any indication, those unreciprocated feelings he'd attempted to ignore for years…weren't so unreciprocated after all.

At the time, he'd told himself that he couldn't tell her, because he didn't want to hurt her. He'd been okay with breaking his own heart as long as Calleigh's had remained whole. Only, it hadn't.

He'd tried to protect her, but he'd only ended up breaking her heart as well.

And there was nothing that hurt more than realizing that.

Gently, he pulled her closer, softly brushing his lips over her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered, wrapping his arms tight around her. "I'm so sorry."

Calleigh melted into his embrace, her own arms looping around him. "It's okay," she murmured automatically against his neck, her warm breath tickling his skin. "You're here now. And I'm sorry I yelled at you. It's been a...tough day."

"Don't apologize. I deserved it," he whispered into her hair, resisting the temptation to completely lose himself in the feeling of having her in his arms. It felt so good to have her there; it felt perfect. But he still wasn't convinced that he deserved to feel that feeling. "And no, it's not okay. I wish I'd told you everything at the beginning. You deserved that much."

His words were nothing if not sincere. Calleigh could hear the pure regret in his words; she could feel his pain as though it were her own. And in all her life, she could never remember feeling so deeply cared about. Tim had quietly endured such pain for so long, because he'd thought it would keep her from hurting. During all his pain, she'd been at the center of his heart. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Slowly she pulled herself from his arms, but not wanting to sever contact completely, she linked her fingers with his. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked softly, losing herself in his dark eyes. The sheer love she found there took her breath away.

Tim nodded. "Anything."

"That letter," Calleigh began, her gaze not wavering once. "Did you, um, did you mean it?"

With a deep sigh, Tim released one of her hands, lifting his to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Only every last word of it," he answered quietly.

And for the first time in three years, Tim was graced with the sight that had always made his heart skip a beat. Calleigh smiled; a real, genuine smile. "Then really, Tim, everything _is_ okay now."

Tim would've given a genuine smile of his own, had Calleigh given him time, of course. But before he could, Calleigh had stepped up to her tiptoes and, placing a hand on his cheek, she kissed him softly on the lips. It was brief; soft like a feather, but it still made Tim's head spin.

"You know, this isn't exactly the way I'd pictured our first kisses," he remarked once Calleigh had backed away, his eyes glancing around at their surroundings. Perhaps it was just him, but Tim couldn't see much of anything romantic about a cemetery…much less one that contained his own grave.

Calleigh grinned, her bright green eyes sparkling. "You've imagined them, have you?" she asked coyly, a bit of a giggle in her voice. "Do tell, please."

Tim smirked. "I'll tell you, if you let me take you home," he quipped. In the back of his mind, he registered just how much difference a day could make. Twenty-four hours before, he had been locked away just a few miles down the road in a less than wonderful motel room, half-watching some stupid made for TV movie; while in his mind finalizing his plan to get that letter and get back to Minnesota without Calleigh even realizing anything. And now, here he was, still without the letter, but with _his _Calleigh in his arms, unable to think about how he could ever leave her again...

No. It wasn't the difference that a day could make; it was the difference that _Calleigh_ could make.

Tim cast another look around at the cemetery, shuddering internally. "Or, I'll tell you if you just let me get you out of here. I don't care where we go, as long as it's not here. This place kinda creeps me out," he added. "Especially in the dark."

"To tell you the truth, it creeps me out too," Calleigh admitted, her own eyes darting around. She hadn't realized just how dark it had gotten, and she gave an involuntary shiver. "I only ever came here because I wanted to be close to you."

Tim smiled. Her words had a profound effect on his heart. He knew that Calleigh wasn't afraid of much, and to know that she would willingly face something that bothered her just to be close to him…

She just kept amazing him, over and over again. It was a feeling he could never get tired of.

"So, what do you say?" he asked, extending a hand to her. "I don't want to be here, you don't want to be here, and I still owe you the explanation of a lifetime. Want to get out of here?"

And with a bright smile lighting up her face in the dark, Calleigh happily took his outstretched hand. "Lead the way!"


	6. Beyond Perfection

Calleigh couldn't blame him for being curious, could she?

Upon leaving the cemetery, Tim had brought them back to her place, after offering to take her anywhere she wanted to go. He didn't care where they went; he just wanted to be with her. But Calleigh had wanted to go home, and Tim could honestly say he understood. She'd had a long day.

But once they'd gotten to her place, Calleigh had shown him to her living room, where Tim had managed to steal a few passionate kisses before Calleigh pulled away from him, intent on changing out of her work clothes.

_"After all, if I'm gonna curl up with you on the couch or something, I want to be comfy," _she'd said in that flirty tone of hers.

And Tim certainly wasn't going to argue with her if she wanted to curl up next to him.

But as she'd disappeared from the living room, Tim had grown curious. He'd known her for years, and yet, he'd never been in her condo. And so he'd decided to take a quiet look around. At first, he'd only explored her living room. But the living room connected to the kitchen, and after committing Calleigh's style of décor to memory, Tim found himself in the hallway.

Framed photographs lined the walls, and Tim couldn't help but stop at each one, allowing himself a long look at them all. There were a few of an obviously younger Calleigh, perhaps around age ten or eleven, her long blonde hair braided in pigtails at the sides of her head. In those photographs, there remained an innocent glow about her face. She was surrounded by three younger boys, also blonde, bearing such striking resemblance to Calleigh that Tim knew they were her brothers.

There were a few photographs from a more recent time, of Calleigh and some people Tim assumed were her friends from outside of work. But of the pictures that weren't family, the majority of them were of the team. There was Alexx, and Delko, and Horatio, even a few of Tim himself. But to himself Tim paid no attention; his eyes were focused on the people he'd known; the friends he'd left behind.

It made him incredibly homesick.

Leaving the pictures behind, Tim quietly crept toward the end of the hallway, passing by a few closed doors. His interest had been piqued by the small sliver of light coming from the room at the end of the hall. The door was ajar, allowing just that much light out, but not allowing Tim to see past it. Common sense told him he should turn back and wait in the living room for Calleigh. But everything else told him exactly the opposite.

And besides, it would be an insult to his CSI skills if he turned back now. CSIs were supposed to investigate.

Cautiously Tim pushed the door open, finding himself standing right in the doorway of her bedroom. Her bedroom, a place he'd only ever visited in his most secret dreams. Curiosity overtook him, and he stepped inside, almost overwhelmed by the scents that assaulted him immediately. There was the soft vanilla he'd always known he'd find there, along with a scent that was just purely and intoxicatingly Calleigh. It had hit him as soon as she'd led him into her condo, but here in her bedroom, it was absolutely overpowering.

Vaguely Tim wished he could bottle that scent, to take it home with him and make his own place smell like her, but he knew that, instead of making him feel close to her, it would make him miss her even more. Instead of making him whole, it would make him feel empty.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was only going to feel empty once he left again anyway.

Forcing that from his mind, Tim made his way further into the room, knowing he really shouldn't be in there. After all, it was her bedroom. Her sanctuary. He shouldn't be in there unless she had invited him in.

But she _had_ told him to make himself at home…

The room itself wasn't too far off from what Tim had imagined. It wasn't extravagant, but it wasn't plain, either. It was spotless; there wasn't an object anywhere that seemed out of place. A small lamp set atop a bedside table, flooding the room with a soft light, not too bright but not too dim either. The bed was perfectly made, not that Tim would've ever expected anything different from Calleigh Duquesne. It was covered by a fluffy white comforter, and Tim's first observation was that it looked very, very soft. And after a night on his couch and a night in a less than comfortable hotel bed, he would swear it called out to him.

It was a call he ignored though, at the risk of getting ahead of himself.

There was a light tap from behind him, and Tim couldn't help but jump, slightly startled. He turned quickly, discovering immediately that he'd been caught.

"What are you doing?"

Calleigh was standing in the doorway, a hand on her hip and one eyebrow raised. She didn't seem upset at all that Tim was wandering around her bedroom; if anything, her face was amused - her eyes sparkled mischievously, and she wore an interested half-smile on her lips.

And she'd changed into something more comfortable, all right. A pair of soft blue sweatpants hung low on her hips, obviously comfortable for her, but not so much for Tim, as they hugged Calleigh's curves in just the right places. She'd also traded her button-down top for a cute grey tank top, another item of clothing that fit her just snugly enough to send Tim's heart into overdrive. Even when she was comfortable, Calleigh was still gorgeous.

The one thing that Tim objected to was that she had gathered her hair into a clip at the back of her head. He didn't _not_ like it or anything; Tim just preferred her hair to fall in soft waves around her face, and the stray wisps that had fallen from the clip just weren't enough.

He gave a smirk, his gaze traveling over her again. "I was just…exploring…" he explained in what might've passed as a sheepish tone, had he been sorry, of course.

Calleigh shivered, feeling his eyes rake over her body. It sent a thrill of anticipation through her body, and it was all she could do not to squirm. "I think you were snooping," she said matter-of-factly, a tiny yet smug smile on her lips.

"Snooping sounds so negative," Tim remarked. "I like to call it investigating."

"Oh yeah, like that's any more positive," Calleigh replied with a chuckle. "That makes it sound like I'm guilty of something."

Tim lifted a brow. "Are you?"

Calleigh gave a secretive grin. Lazily she approached him, a seductive sway in her hips. "Maybe I am," she whispered low, ghosting her fingertips over Tim's hips.

He hadn't expected the jolt of electricity that shot through him at her touch, as light as it was. Slightly uncomfortable, Tim swallowed. She was so close to him, touching him, staring seductively up at him, and right in front of her bed, no less…it was a miracle he could keep his hands and lips off of her.

And, after being away from her for so long and now having her right in front of him, it was only a moment more that he could keep his hands off of her. The temptation was just too great, and really, it wasn't like he wanted to resist it anyway.

His eyes locked with hers as he traced his fingers over her bare upper arms, hearing her breathe in sharply as he did so. Her skin was so soft; softer than he'd ever thought possible, and if it felt that good under his fingertips, he couldn't imagine how it would feel to explore that softness with his lips. And that was the temptation Tim forced himself to resist, for the moment at least.

However, he still couldn't ignore the way her hair called out to him. The wisps around her face were teasing him, and Tim didn't quite like to be teased. "This won't do," he muttered, reaching behind her head and releasing her hair from the clip that had held it. He watched, mesmerized as it cascaded around her shoulders, the soft scent of it carrying all the way to Tim's nose. "Much better," he added approvingly, one hand immediately disappearing into her soft blonde locks.

Calleigh's cheeks tinted lightly under his intense gaze, any words she might've wanted to say dying at her lips as Tim pulled her closer, lowering his lips to her neck. Calleigh sighed instantly, happily tilting her head to allow him better access. His breath and his stubble tickled her skin as Tim kissed his way up her neck and across her jaw line, and if Calleigh thought he'd made her weak on her knees in the cemetery earlier, it was nothing compared to what he did to her as his lips found the spot below her ear, the spot that could very quickly have her squirming in his arms.

One of her hands snaked behind his neck, her fingers threading through his short hair as she tried to pull him closer to her. Tim happily obliged, not that he had any choice in the matter. Once the tiniest of moans escaped from Calleigh's lips, Tim was gone. He couldn't fight it anymore; he was completely and utterly lost in her. Calleigh gave a soft whimper of protest as his lips left her skin, but it was a whimper that was quickly muffled as Tim's mouth closed over hers, kissing her deeply.

It was in that moment that everything else ceased to exist. There was no time, no distance, no lies. There was no Florida; there was no Minnesota. The only place that mattered was right there, within that very room. All that existed was feeling; all that mattered was the feel of her lips against his, one of her hands at the back of his neck while the other traced along his chest; the feel of her skin beneath his hands as they slipped beneath the hem of her top.

There was no other way to describe it - Tim was in heaven. Calleigh was closer to him than she'd ever been, and yet she still wasn't close enough. Her scent was all around him, intoxicating him; driving him crazy, absolutely crazy for her. If ever there was a moment he wished he could stay in forever, this was it.

It was only as he felt the softness of her bed beneath his back that Tim tried to force his way back to the present.

He'd give anything to be able to lose himself in her; to just let go and let this happen. In his life, he'd experienced nothing better than the feeling of Calleigh's lips moving against his, her hair falling around them like a curtain, her body pressed against his…

But it felt too good. _Way_ too good.

Tim couldn't do this. Not to himself, and most especially not to Calleigh.

The pain would be way too much, worse than any he'd ever felt in his life. Before, he _hadn't_ had Calleigh. He'd never kissed her, he'd never felt the softness of her skin, her hair. Being with her had been nothing more than a fantasy.

And it was easier to leave something he'd never had, than to leave something he _did_ have.

With extreme force of will, he brought himself back to earth, forcing himself to fight the intense wave of immeasurable passion he was nearly lost in. "Calleigh," he mumbled between kisses, her insistence making him want to stop even less. He lay a hand on her cheek, only barely trying to push her away. She gave the tiniest moan of protest, and Tim knew had he not been already lying down, that moan would've done it.

Gently he brushed her hair back, kissing her deeply once more. " Cal…slow down, Cal," he managed, and finally she broke away from him, breathing heavily as she looked down at him.

Her confusion was apparent. "Tim…"

"I can't do this, Calleigh," he murmured, still trying to catch his own breath. "We can't do this."

The confusion in her eyes quickly shifted to hurt, and Tim felt a tinge of guilt for putting it there. Before she could speak, Tim gently pressed a finger to her lips, making sure he held eye contact with her. He murmured her name slowly, moving his hand to cup her face.

"You don't know how bad I want you right now," he whispered huskily, sending shivers down Calleigh's spine. Gently he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb, smiling as she closed her eyes in pleasure. "It's killing me not to give in and make love to you. But I can't - I won't do that to you. You mean too much to me. I don't want to hurt you again."

_I won't turn this into a one night stand. _

_I won't break your heart again. _

Calleigh couldn't help but feel there was something more behind his words, but logically she also knew he was right. They were moving a bit too fast. It might've been different if it hadn't been less than twelve hours before that she'd thought him dead. It _was_ a lot, for such a short period of time.

She couldn't deny it; she wanted him. She wanted him _badly._

But there was just something in his eyes that made her heart swell. Just the idea that he'd cared enough to think about her heart instead of his own pleasure…

But then again, something told her that with Tim, it had always been that way, and knowing that was more than enough to satisfy her. Smiling softly, she gave a slight nod and dropped one more quick kiss to his lips. "Will you at least stay here and talk to me?" she asked quietly.

Tim chuckled softly, gently ruffling her slightly tousled hair. "I hadn't planned on going anywhere else," he murmured. "Besides, you never did give me the chance to explain everything anyway."

Calleigh blushed shyly. "Sorry," she mumbled, moving off of him and onto her side, snuggling against him as she felt his arms encircle her.

"Don't apologize," Tim said, pressing a kiss into her hair. "As it is, I'm still trying to figure out where to even begin."

"You know," Calleigh began, resting a hand on Tim's chest, just over his heart, "they say that the beginning's always a good place to start."

"Is that so?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Alright. Well, in the beginning," Tim smirked, "I was born."

Calleigh laughed, playfully swatting at his chest. "Not that far in the beginning!"

Tim lifted an eyebrow in challenge. "You _did_ say the beginning. How else can you define the beginning?"

"You haven't changed a bit, you know?" Calleigh teased, unable to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Did you want me to?"

Calleigh lifted her head, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look into his eyes. She felt him tighten his arm around her as though afraid she was going somewhere. It was sweet, but Tim really didn't need to worry. If Calleigh had her way, she would never leave his arms again. Gently she traced a finger over his cheek, smiling as Tim's eyes fluttered in delight. "Absolutely not," she murmured. She waited for him to meet her eyes again before she spoke once more. "Start at the beginning of all this," she said, gesturing slightly.

"I've got a better idea," Tim replied, pursing his lips thoughtfully. He knew if he just told her what had happened, he could leave something out; something he might've found unimportant but that Calleigh might've wanted to know. And while he knew Calleigh deserved the whole truth, Tim mostly wanted her to know what she wanted to know. "Why don't you ask me something? What do you want to know?"

Her first question was as plain as day in the front of her mind, but she didn't know how to ask it. Anxiously, Calleigh nibbled at her lower lip. She knew her words would sound timid, and she knew her voice might shake. But as she looked into Tim's eyes, something told her that in no way would Tim think any less of her if her voice shook or if she showed something other than her customary strength. So, with a deep breath, she asked the question that had plagued her for most of the evening. "Why did you have to leave?"

Tim sighed. "Our friends at the FBI, that's why," he answered bitterly. He knew that for his safety, he wasn't supposed to tell anybody what had really happened. But if he couldn't trust Calleigh, then who could he trust? There was next to no danger in Calleigh knowing the whole story; the danger came from somebody else knowing that she knew, and Tim knew Calleigh was smart enough not to mention it to anyone else once he'd told her. So it was with full confidence that Tim launched into his story from the beginning, telling her everything. What had happened with his case; why that downfall had put him personally in grave danger, at least, according to the Feds. Tim didn't hesitate to tell Calleigh that he hadn't believed them completely.

He gave her the entire story behind his "murder;" how the Feds had figured since he hadn't cleaned his gun once, that it must've been a habit and therefore the entire mishap could happen again very easily. It had been the simplest, most believable way to stage his death, and nobody but Tim himself had cared about the reputation it would place upon him. Like the Feds had told him, he would be dead, so why would it matter? But to Tim, it did matter. It always had mattered, and he made sure that Calleigh knew that.

"Why Minnesota?" Calleigh asked, after he'd finished. "It seems like it'd be a rather bleak place. Why not California? Or Texas? Or a ranch somewhere out west?" Calleigh's eyes sparkled mischievously. "You could've been a cowboy."

Tim smirked. "You're not serious, are you?"

Calleigh grinned. "I don't know. I bet you'd look good in a cowboy hat." True, she thought he'd look good in just about anything, but that wasn't exactly the point.

"You really are serious," Tim muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You know, I really don't know why I ended up in Minnesota. I guess it was just at the top of the list."

"The list?" Calleigh tilted her head, confused.

"Yeah. The list of places where I'd be most miserable."

"Oh, Tim," Calleigh murmured sympathetically, his anger and bitterness hitting her straight in the heart. She felt for him; she wished there was something she could do, anything. Her mind remained blank though, and she did the only thing she could think of; she lowered her head, pressing a tender kiss to his jaw. "I'm sorry."

Tim gave a humorless chuckle. "It's not your fault. If it's anybody's, it's mine for getting into that mess in the first place." For a moment he closed his eyes, simply reveling in the feel of her soft lips on his skin. He brought a hand to her silky locks, stroking them tenderly. Briefly his mind flashed back to earlier in the evening, when he'd gotten his very first glimpse of her at the cemetery. "When did you cut your hair?" he asked curiously.

At first, Calleigh didn't know what he was talking about. She lifted her head, staring down at him in confusion. And then she remembered - the last time he'd seen her, Calleigh's hair had cascaded nearly the entire length of her back. Now it seemed only to fall a few inches below her shoulders. It didn't matter; Tim loved it either way, but it had just been something he was curious about. "Oh," she said, remembering. "I just got it trimmed a bit around the beginning of the year. I don't know; I guess I was just ready for something new." She gave a seductive grin. "Why, don't you like?"

Tim smirked. "Oh, I like, all right," he confirmed, gently twirling a few strands with his fingers. "It's just…different, that's all."

"Tell me about it," Calleigh said with a chuckle. "I think it took me a week to get completely used to it." She paused, shaking her head slightly. "Why exactly are we talking about me? You're supposed to be telling me about you!"

"Am I not allowed to ask about you?" Tim asked, pretending to be offended.

Calleigh smiled. "Sure, if you want to be bored to sleep," she said, and Tim couldn't help but snort. He didn't think Calleigh could ever bore him. She could talk about the most boring subject in the world, and Tim would still be enthralled by the sweet sound of her voice. "Besides," she began again, recapturing Tim's attention immediately, "I'm not the one living a whole new life. I still do the same job every day, come home to the same place every night, I spend my weekends in the same place - I haven't had a vacation in ages. My life is exactly the same as it was before. But yours isn't." Calleigh shifted again, nuzzling deeper into Tim's embrace. It was beyond perfection, the way her body melted against his, the way she fit so flawlessly in his arms. If there was a better feeling anywhere in the world, Calleigh didn't know about it. "I want to hear about it," she added, resting her head on his shoulder.

Tim was at a loss. He honestly didn't have a clue what she might want to hear about. "What could you possibly want to know?" he asked slowly, gently stroking her back.

Calleigh shrugged in his arms. "I don't know. Tell me about Minnesota."

Only barely did Tim resist the urge to laugh. Minnesota? Yeah, that was a conversation that would be over in ten seconds. Honestly, what was there to tell? "Uh…well," he began, "there's some trees. There's a lake a couple miles from my place. And then there's more trees."

"Very descriptive," Calleigh teased.

Tim smirked. "Actually, that's about as good of a description anybody could give that place. It's not like I spend any time in the cities or anything. I'm up in the middle of nowhere, and I think the closest big city in any direction is in Canada. Where I am is really just one big forest. And it snows all winter. All winter," Tim repeated, for emphasis. "It's nothing I wasn't used to in New York, but there's just something far more depressing about snow in the middle of nowhere than snow in a large city somewhere."

"You really get snow up there?" Calleigh asked, a slightly wistful tone to her voice. "You know, I've never actually seen snow."

"Trust me, Cal, it's nothing to get excited about. After about the third snow of the season, which happens in, oh, around November, it's nothing special. And it's really quite troublesome," Tim said, reliving his last experience in the snow in his mind. It wasn't pleasant.

"I'll bet it's pretty though."

For a moment, Tim hesitated. Calleigh did have a point. The snow did have a bit of a unspoiled beauty to it up there. Unlike in New York, there was nobody around where he was now, and nothing to change the soft white powder into slush in various shades of grey. "Yeah, it can be pretty," he admitted quietly.

He felt Calleigh nuzzle against his neck again, and he couldn't help but smile. Tim knew that he'd smiled more in the past few hours than he had in the past three years. His ears picked up on a soft yawn from Calleigh, and instinctively he looked toward the clock. He was about to suggest that she get some sleep when she spoke again.

"So, why don't you introduce me to yourself?" she asked, a soft giggle in her voice.

That question threw Tim for a loop. "Huh?"

"Well, obviously you can't go around as Timothy Speedle anymore, even if you are in the middle of nowhere," Calleigh smirked. "So tell me about the new you."

"Calleigh, there's really not much to tell. My alias is about as boring as the tiny town I got shipped off to." Nevertheless, he gave a sigh and began to tell her about himself - or rather, who he was supposed to be now. "According to the Feds, my name is Derek Harper."

"Harper?" Calleigh repeated, making a face. "I don't like it."

"Why not?"

Calleigh grinned. "Well, obviously, it doesn't lend itself to as sexy a nickname as Speedle does," she remarked flirtily.

Tim snickered. "I guess it doesn't. Anyway, supposedly I'm divorced and I moved out to Minnesota for a fresh start and some new scenery. And basically that's the story. Oh, and I'm from Boston."

"Boston," Calleigh drawled, brushing her lips ever lightly over Tim's jaw line. "Even your alias is a Yankee."

"Yeah, because if you'll remember," Tim pointed out with a smirk, "I _am_ a Yankee."

Calleigh giggled, shaking her head. "Nah, if I recall correctly, you were becoming quite the Southern gentleman. I was quite impressed."

A companionable silence fell around them, leaving them both lost in each other's arms. The only sounds were those of the night outside. Tim couldn't recall a time in his life when he'd been more comfortable…or happier. He had Calleigh in his arms, where, in his opinion, she belonged. It was almost enough to lull him into slumber, if he hadn't been trying so hard to stay awake. It was a battle he'd almost lost when, almost out of the blue, Calleigh's lips uttered one of the few questions he'd dreaded answering.

"Have you dated any?"

Tim sighed. He wanted to lie, but like all of her other questions, he answered truthfully. "I tried," he admitted quietly. "Nothing ever lasted beyond a week or two, though."

"Why not?" Calleigh asked curiously, fighting back a yawn.

Once more, he could've embellished his answer, but once more, he stuck with the straight and simple truth. She deserved that much. "Because I knew I loved you," he answered softly. Calleigh didn't reply, but Tim could tell she was smiling. Smiling, and blushing just slightly. "What about you? Surely you've been on a handful of dates since I last saw you."

Calleigh's smile faded, and she let out a slow breath. "I, uh, kind of went off of dating," she murmured, feeling slightly uncomfortable about waking those ghosts. "I'm bad luck, don't you know?" she added, trying to throw an element of teasing back into the conversation. It was the last thing Calleigh needed right now, to feel distressed. "But then again, I've never had that much luck when it came to men…"

Her mind immediately brought up images she'd rather never see again; John Hagen, Peter Elliot, the few other men she'd shown an interest in over the past three years. Each relationship had ended terribly. But then again, it wasn't like she'd ever had a relationship that didn't end terribly.

But now, as she lay snugly in Tim's arms, Calleigh couldn't help but hope that maybe her luck was changing. He'd come back to her; that had to be lucky, right?

"You're not bad luck," Tim murmured softly. "I think you've just been dating the wrong type."

Calleigh lifted her head, a small smile on her lips. "You say that like you know exactly who's right for me."

Tim grinned. "I'd like to think I do." He lifted his head slightly, softly capturing her lips with his. It was only brief, gentle, but still it was perfect.

With a lazy smile, Calleigh lay her head atop Tim's chest, the sound of his steady heartbeat reassuring her for the thousandth time that, yes, he was indeed alive; that he was here, in her bed, holding her tightly. "I could get used to this," she murmured, unable to stop a yawn from escaping her.

Tim chuckled, knowing Calleigh was tired, but knowing she was trying to stay awake. After all, he was doing the same thing. "You should get some sleep," he murmured anyway. Ever so gently, he slipped his hand beneath her top, his fingers tracing tiny circles over her back. He felt Calleigh squirm slightly against him, and he smiled.

"I don't want to," she mumbled sleepily.

"But you should. You're tired."

Calleigh shifted in his arms so she could look into his eyes. "Tim…"

Her fear was evident in her eyes; Tim couldn't have missed it even if he were blind. With his free hand he brushed a strand of hair from her face, looking her deep in her green eyes. He knew her too well; Tim knew she wouldn't voice her fear, but she didn't have to. It was obvious why she didn't want sleep to take her away.

In gaining sleep, she was afraid she would lose him again.

And honestly, Tim couldn't say he wasn't afraid of the very same thing.

Tightly he wrapped his arm around her once more, pulling her close to him. With a sigh, Calleigh lowered her head back to his chest, though this time she held to him as tightly as he held to her.

With a gentle smile, Tim pressed a kiss to the top of her head before whispering the reassuring words that he knew she needed to hear.

"I couldn't leave you tonight if I wanted to."

* * *

**This isn't the end. Yes, I did say this would be a six-parter, but since the original chapter five was never going to end, it got split into five and six instead. That turns this into a seven-parter, meaning that the next chapter will be the final chapter. :)  
**


	7. My Other Half

Although her body was absolutely exhausted, Calleigh found herself awakening merely a few hours after she'd finally fallen asleep in Tim's arms. Despite the fact that it had indeed only been a few hours, she couldn't remember ever sleeping as well as she had. She hadn't spent half the night tossing and turning, and Calleigh was willing to bet that slight difference was all because of being in Tim's arms.

But now as she slowly drifted away from sleep, Calleigh quickly realized that something was wrong. Despite being snuggled deeply under the covers, she was cold. There was a strange emptiness that surrounded her; an eerie quietness. After the initial realization, it only took Calleigh a second to figure out what was wrong.

The steady heartbeat that she'd fallen asleep listening to was gone.

The warm arms that had surrounded her all night were gone.

Tim was gone.

A sense of panic immediately descended on Calleigh, and her eyes shot open, dreading seeing the truth. It took her a moment to adjust to the darkness, as it was still before sunrise. But her body already knew what her eyes would soon see. Except for Calleigh, her bed was empty. There wasn't anyone else in the room, and the lights were off in the hallway.

Had it all been nothing more than a dream?

Had Tim really only been in her imagination? Had the letter been nothing more than a dream, brought about by the stress of reliving this time of year over and over again? Had Calleigh really wanted him so badly that her subconscious had brought him back to her, only for her to wake and realize it wasn't real? Was it all just an elaborate scheme thought up by her mind; was Timothy Speedle really still dead?

The questions bombarded her, each one more frightening than the previous one. The longer that Calleigh simply lay there in fear, the harder her heart pounded in her chest; the more shallowly, more quickly her breaths seemed to come. Even lying down, she grew dizzy with panic, her body refusing to believe that it had all been just another lie. She clenched her fists in an effort to stop the shaking in her hands, but that did nothing for the shaking that plagued the rest of her body.

And then, there was something. In her panicked state, Calleigh could only pick it up faintly, but it was there. Carefully she rolled onto her side, closing her eyes as she forced herself to get in control of her breathing enough to take one slow, deep breath. And sure enough, it was there. Buried deep within the pillow was Tim's scent, so uniquely his. It was there, and that couldn't be had it all only been a dream.

Still, it didn't calm her nerves too much. Calleigh still hadn't a clue where he was, or if he was even still here.

Shakily, she pulled herself out of bed, shivering lightly as an unwelcome chill came over her. She slipped on her robe, tying it tightly about the middle before slowly she made her way out of the room, listening intently as she moved through the dark hallway and into the living room. Still there were no lights on, though the soft glow of early morning twilight was filtering through the windows, providing enough light not to be dark, but not enough to be daylight either.

It was, however, enough light to chase away her panic; her fears. As she stepped completely into the living room, Calleigh could see him. There he was, bathed in the soft twilight, his back to her as he stood in front of the sliding glass door, staring aimlessly out.

Her panic might've been gone, but upset she remained. "You left me," she accused softly, slowly crossing the room.

Tim was slightly startled; he hadn't expected her to wake up yet. "I'm sorry," he murmured, turning to her. Once more he was amazed by her beauty; he'd never seen anything more adorable than Calleigh wrapped tightly in her light pink robe, matching fuzzy slippers on her feet, her hair still tousled by sleep. It was a side of Calleigh he'd never seen before; there was a vulnerability about her that made him just want to take her in his arms and keep her there.

He didn't have to. Tim gave a genuine smile as Calleigh stepped right up to him, her arms looping around him as she rested her head against his chest. "What are you doing up anyway?" she asked, feeling his strong arms embrace her. She closed her eyes happily, feeling complete once again.

"I was just…remembering," he replied quietly, resting his chin atop her hair. "It's been a long time since I've been in Miami; even longer since I've watched a Miami sunrise." All those years, it had seemed trivial to him. A sunrise was just a sunrise; it happened every day. It was nothing special.

That is, until it was gone. Until he was forced to go somewhere without an ocean over which to watch the sunrise. Until the trees and ridges to the east of him obscured any view of the sunrise until it was already mid-morning.

He'd taken it for granted. And now, he'd only wanted to enjoy it while he could.

Calleigh smiled into his chest, understanding. "You should've woken me up, though."

"You looked too peaceful," Tim explained, pressing a kiss into her hair. "I would've felt bad to wake you."

Despite the fear that had overtaken her upon waking alone, Calleigh couldn't help but melt at his words, his sincerity. With a contented sigh, she let her eyes fall closed once again, snuggling against his chest. She could easily forgive him for leaving her earlier, for it was just too perfect to be in his arms as he swayed them gently in the early morning light…

Lost in his embrace, Calleigh allowed her mind to wander, his words bringing to mind a memory from the night before, just as she'd allowed him to lead her away from the cemetery. Much of the car ride from there to her place was a blur, though there was one conversation that had lodged itself firmly in Calleigh's memory.

--

_"I used to watch you," Tim began, making good on his promise; his promise to divulge to her one of his most secret fantasies - that of sharing their first kiss. At first, he'd had no problem telling her, but now that he'd began speaking, the whole thing felt kind of foolish. But Tim persisted anyway. "I doubt you ever knew I was there. You would be, ah, running a test-fire, or taking apart a gun or something. Or maybe you were just writing a report. What you were doing isn't the point. I used to watch you, and I used to imagine sneaking up on you -" _

_"That's not as easy as it looks, you know," Calleigh pointed out with a grin. "Delko tries to do it all the time. He thinks it's funny." _

_"Well, that's Delko." Tim snickered. "I know I could've sneaked up on you if I'd wanted to." _

_"You sound so sure of yourself." _

_"I did it tonight, didn't I?" Tim smirked, watching Calleigh narrow her eyes, knowing he was right. "But yeah, I used to imagine sneaking up behind you, spinning you around and kissing you before you ever realized what was happening." _

_Calleigh giggled. "Oh really? You know, that's kind of dangerous." Her eyes glittered. "If you'd scared me, which you probably would have, you might've ended up with an elbow in your nose. Or a knee in your groin." She smirked, watching Tim wince at the implication. "I don't take too well to being scared like that." _

_"Well, you see, that's just it." Tim gave a smug grin. "In my fantasy, you were always too smitten to do anything but kiss me back." _

_"Oh yeah, that's definitely a fantasy then," Calleigh teased, playfully swatting at his arm. Tim glared, though good-naturedly. Calleigh winked, sitting back in her seat. "Continue please," she said sweetly. _

_"Not that I think you deserve to hear the rest." _

_"Oh, come on," Calleigh pouted, barely holding back a smile. He wouldn't have brought it up in the first place if he hadn't wanted to tell her everything. _

_Sure enough, Tim relented. He couldn't resist it when she pouted, even if it was completely and utterly fake. "I also used to imagine doing things the right way; taking you out for a nice dinner at the best restaurant in town, not just because it was the best restaurant, but because seeing you in a little black dress…damn," he said approvingly, eliciting a sheepish giggle from Calleigh. _

_"You do know you'd have to dress up too," she pointed out, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Might even have to shave." _

_"Yeah. But it'd be plenty worth it." He saw Calleigh's smile, and he couldn't help but give one too. "Afterward, I'd imagined taking you for a walk on the beach, and sharing our first kiss under the stars." _

_"Wow," Calleigh murmured, "who knew you were such a romantic?" _

_"Only you," Tim answered affectionately. From the corner of his eye he watched Calleigh's smile widen before he continued. "But my favorite daydream by far is the one where I come by your place and wake you up about an hour before sunrise." _

_Calleigh snickered. "You would favor that one." _

_"Absolutely, because you were always amazingly pleasant in the mornings," Tim deadpanned with a smirk. "Anyway, like I said, I'd wake you up, and I'd take you out to the beach and wait for the sunrise…"_

_-- _

The memory brought a warm smile to Calleigh's lips and, in the moments that followed, an idea to her mind. She forced herself to pull away from the sheer warmth and comfort of Tim's arms, missing it immediately but knowing it would only be gone for a short while. Tim gave her a questioning look, knowing Calleigh was up to something. The sparkle in her eyes and the secretive smile on her face was enough to give that away. " Cal?" he questioned, lifting an eyebrow. He wished she hadn't pulled away like that.

"Come on," Calleigh said, tugging at Tim's hand. She turned from him to open the screen door before stepping outside into the cool morning air. There was a definite chill in the air, and Calleigh was glad she'd thought to put her robe on.

Slightly confused, Tim could only follow her out onto the balcony, taking in the view as he stepped up beside her. It was beautiful; she had a wonderful view of the ocean, its blue vastness obscured by nothing. It had been years since he'd seen the ocean quite like this.

Calleigh turned to him, a light pink tint in her cheeks. She looked almost sheepish, as though having second thoughts about her "brilliant" idea. Tim watched her, entranced by the way the sea breeze played in her blonde hair as he waited for her explanation.

Reaching out, she took both of Tim's hands in her own, squeezing softly. She cocked her head slightly toward the ocean, over which the sun was finally beginning to rise. "I, uh, know we're not exactly on the beach," she began, remember their conversation from the night before. "But then again, since this won't exactly be our first kiss, I figured I could have a bit of leeway, you know?" She shrugged. "At least we've got the sunrise."

Tim smiled, feeling his heart swell immensely. "As long as I've got you, I wouldn't care if it was raining," he murmured. Gently he pulled her closer, and as Calleigh tilted her head upward, Tim lowered his lips to hers, kissing her deeply.

It was a slow, lazy kiss, though certainly lacking no passion. Calleigh could feel the shivers running through every inch of her body as Tim's mouth moved against hers, her body pressed tightly against his. Neither of them wanted to part, fighting the need for oxygen as they stole kiss after kiss while the sun slowly rose into the sky before them. It was perfect, honestly perfect, and if there was anything she wanted to have every morning from here on out, this was it.

It was some time later that they both came back to the present. Gently Tim spun Calleigh in his arms, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back flush to his chest. Calleigh sighed happily as she felt his lips against her temple, wishing the moment would never end.

Tim held her tightly, almost as though fighting time itself. The longer he held her, the faster time seemed to accelerate, and he dreaded it immensely. The moment he would have to let her go; the moment he would have to leave her. It was speeding at him like a train, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He felt Calleigh squirm in his arms, and he couldn't help but fear that she'd felt the moment change; that she'd felt the way his heart seemed to accelerate along with the clock. But if she had, she said nothing, instead her mouth opened to let out a soft yawn.

"You should get some more sleep," he murmured, once more brushing his lips over her temple.

"You hypocrite," Calleigh teased, chuckling softly. "I'll bet you didn't sleep at all last night."

Tim breathed in sharply. This was it. It was now or never, though he dreaded saying anything at all. Closing his eyes, he threw caution to the wind before he spoke, hoping it wouldn't be too disastrous. She had to know this was coming, didn't she? "No, I didn't sleep last night. I knew…I knew I would sleep on the plane."

Calleigh's eyes shot open, a cold chill spreading through her veins. Surely she had heard wrong - he'd told her he wasn't going anywhere! It was just like waking up alone in bed again; she could feel the panic start to set in. "On - on the plane?" she murmured shakily, hoping and praying that she'd heard wrong.

He'd felt her stiffen in his arms, and Tim hated himself for that. He hated himself for the hurt he heard in her simple question, knowing he'd put it there. "On the plane, yeah. Back to Minnesota."

Calleigh clenched her fists at her sides, struggling to hold it together. With only a couple of sentences from Tim, it was like her entire world was coming undone again. "When?"

"In a few hours."

And with that statement, her world _did_ crumble. "No," she whispered. "You just got here!"

"I know," Tim said, feeling terrible. "In the beginning, that was sort of the point."

Calleigh's jaw dropped. "So what, you planned to come and see me, but didn't plan to give me even twenty-four hours to process that you're even alive, let alone everything else?"

"Calleigh…"

The pain, the guilt in his voice was palpable, but it was something else that Calleigh picked up on. It hit her like a brick wall, shooting through her and shattering her very heart to pieces. "Oh my God," she murmured shakily, feeling her breath leave her. "You didn't plan any of this." And with that, she fought her way out of his arms and darted back inside.

"Calleigh!" Tim called after her, following her. Easily he caught up to her, reaching out and grasping her arm.

"Let go of me!" Calleigh fought, though Tim took no heed to her demands. Instead he stepped in front of her and held her shoulders, much like he had the night before in the cemetery.

"Calleigh, please, listen to me," he pleaded.

"You lied to me, Tim!" Angrily she pushed against his chest, but Tim refused to let her go. "You lied to me," she repeated, meeting his eyes for the first time since before they'd kissed on the balcony.

Tim was taken aback. Her actions clearly displayed her anger - her stalking back inside, her angry words, her shoving at his chest. But in her eyes there was not anger; in her eyes Tim saw something he'd never seen before, at least, not in her eyes - unshed tears. And it wasn't just slight moisture he saw there; her eyes were swimming in those unshed tears. "Oh, Calleigh," he murmured, trying once more to draw her near to him.

"Stop it!" Calleigh protested. "Just let me go!"

Tim's heart was breaking again, hearing the pain finally come through over the anger in her words. It killed him that he'd hurt her again, but she wouldn't listen to him; she wouldn't let him explain. But then again, he wasn't sure anything he could say would make it better. Calleigh tried once more to twist out of his grasp, but failed. "Damn it, Tim," she muttered, her voice breaking as she stopped fighting, letting Tim pull her into his arms at last.

He felt her body shaking, and he closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair. "I'm so sorry, Calleigh," he murmured, each word heavily touched with his sorrow. "I'm so sorry."

Calleigh clutched at Tim's shirt and bit her lip until she tasted blood, desperate for any way to hold her tears inside. She would not let herself cry; she would _not._ Not only would she feel too weak, too vulnerable, but she knew that once they started, they wouldn't stop.

And she would _not_ fall apart in front of Tim.

Instead, she buried her face against his chest, clutching to him as desperately as she'd been trying to get away just moments before. "So you were really going to come to Miami, and just let me keep thinking you were dead?"

It just wouldn't stop; it was as though her words just kept shooting icicles through his heart, his veins. "I wanted to protect you," he said softly. "I should've never sent that letter; it was a mistake. It could've gotten you killed." He tightened his arms around her, feeling her stiffen again. Calleigh didn't like the idea that she needed protecting, and Tim understood that. Quickly he spoke again, before Calleigh could protest. "I was going to fly down here, and I was planning to get the letter out of your mailbox before you got home. But once I got here, it wasn't there."

"I came home for lunch yesterday…I got the mail then," Calleigh replied quietly, flatly.

Tim nodded. "That explains why the mailbox was empty." He sighed. "I was planning on getting the letter back before you saw it. Then I'd planned to go back to my hotel room for the night and head back this morning."

"But then everything changed, Calleigh," he continued, his voice strained. "You read the letter. I knew you would be confused; I knew you'd want answers. So I decided I would come and see you. And well…from there the rest is history."

"So if everything else can change, why can't the ending change?" It was a desperate question, and Calleigh knew it.

Tim let out a deep breath. "I can't stay. You know that."

"But I could go with you."

Oh, how Tim wished he could say yes to that. It would certainly make the long, cold nights in Minnesota much better if he could sleep with her by his side, in his arms. But he knew he couldn't accept that. "Calleigh…no. I can't do that to you. Miami is your home. I can't make you leave the sunshine, the warmth, your friends. Your life is here."

It sounded ridiculous to Calleigh; how could her life be in Miami, while Tim was locked away in some rural Minnesota town? It didn't make sense. Still, she forced herself to accept it. Tim was indeed her other half, and he was every bit as stubborn as she was. She would argue, he would argue back, and they would spend their last precious minutes together arguing. Calleigh didn't want that.

She relaxed in his arms, finally wrapping her own around him. "I don't want you to go…"

"Me neither, Beautiful. Me neither." He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in deeply, trying to embed her scent in his memory, as well as the perfect way she fit in his arms, knowing she may never be there again.

He held her for as long as he could, knowing their time together was shrinking down to the minutes, the bare seconds. He wanted to stay with her to the last possible moment, but all too soon, that moment had arrived.

But as soon as he tried to let her go, Calleigh tightened her own arms around him. He'd sworn not to break her heart again, and yet, that was exactly what he was doing. It tore him to the core. Gently he tried to extricate himself from her arms, but Calleigh wasn't willing to let go. "Calleigh," he said softly, stroking her hair. "I need to go, Calleigh."

"No." It was firm, defiant, and Tim only wished he could give in.

But he couldn't. He couldn't stay, and they both knew that. Gently he said her name once more, not surprised to feel a burning behind his own eyes.

Reluctantly, Calleigh pulled away from him, her eyes downcast. She refused to break all contact with him, however. As he tried to move away, she took his hands, clasping them tightly. "Don't make me let you go," she whispered, lifting her eyes to his.

Tim sighed. "Calleigh…"

She'd known it wouldn't work. With a sad nod, Calleigh blinked furiously, and with her hands shaking slightly, she let him go. Immediately she felt cold, empty; and Calleigh was afraid to imagine how she would feel once Tim walked out her front door, and quite possibly out of her life for the last time. "So I guess this is it," she said quietly.

Not yet. Tim couldn't say goodbye just yet. Pulling her close one last time, he buried a hand in her hair as he crushed his lips to hers, kissing her frantically, desperately, passionately…

But it was over too soon. Like the night, like the morning, like the time he'd spent holding her in his arms, the kiss was over too soon. He didn't want it to end; he didn't want to leave her, but Tim knew it was time. Calleigh knew it was time.

Calleigh would forever feel the way his thumb stroked over her cheek for the last time; she would forever shiver at the intense passion, the love she found in his eyes as he gazed into hers for the last time. She would forever see in her mind the way he glanced back at her several times before he walked out her front door, for the first and last time.

But more than that, she would forever hear the last words he spoke to her.

"I love you, Calleigh."

At the time, she'd been able to do nothing more than give a slow nod, still slightly stunned by the force of his last kiss. But as soon as the door closed behind him; as soon as he drove away, the regrets came at her without preamble.

_Why didn't you offer to go with him to the airport? _

_Why didn't you make him see how much you wanted to go with him? _

_Why didn't you tell him you loved him? _

It was the last question that broke her heart, what was left of it. The reality was that she _hadn't_ told him; she _hadn't_ made sure he'd known. And now, he may never know.

Calleigh had never hurt this badly before. It was worse than when he'd left the first time. She felt empty; she knew she would never be whole again without him.

Unimaginable pain searing through her, Calleigh did the only thing she felt like doing: she slowly made her way back to her bedroom, content to do nothing more than spend the rest of the day in bed. But as she slipped beneath the covers, her pain seemed to triple, growing even more intense with every breath she took. His scent was all around her, permeating her every sense.

And that did it. Knowing his scent was all that remained; knowing that she'd found love but let it slip through her fingers in a mere day - it broke the dam inside of her. Her eyes burning, Calleigh pulled that one pillow - the one that she would see as Tim's pillow from now on - close to her, squeezing it as tightly as she could. She breathed in deeply once more, letting his scent overwhelm her. It was all she had left.

Her face crumpled, and for the first time, she didn't resist it. For the first time since after Tim's supposed funeral, Calleigh buried her face in the pillow, not even caring that it was soon soaked with her tears.

--

It wasn't until a few days later that Calleigh found the real reason why Tim had left her in bed alone early that morning. He hadn't only wanted to gaze out at the sunrise; there was something else he'd needed to do.

She found it one day as she came home for lunch - something she'd done every day since Tim had left. Every day she went to the mailbox with anticipation; every day she walked back inside feeling disappointed. But what she found wasn't in the mailbox; it was on the floor, beneath the kitchen counter - Calleigh assumed it must've been knocked off the counter by accident. She didn't care; the important thing was that she'd found it.

Her hands shook as she unfolded it, and as she read the words, Calleigh felt her heart begin to warm again; she felt every inch of her fill with a hopeful anticipation, and for the first time in days, she felt a smile touch her lips.

_My Calleigh, _

_As I sit here at your kitchen counter at a little past five AM, I find myself at a loss of what exactly to say to you. I don't think there are any words to do what I want to say justice. I didn't have a clue what to expect when I approached you last night in the cemetery, but I know I didn't expect you to welcome me with open arms. I never expected you to feel what I've felt for years. For years I told myself that it wasn't possible; that you deserved someone far better than me. I still think you deserve someone better than me, someone that can actually be with you. _

_I am so sorry that it has to be like this. I never expected you to find that letter; I expected to be in and out of Miami in no time. I never expected to actually find you, to talk to you, to spend the night holding you as you slept in my arms. But I can't come up with the words to tell you how glad I am that I did. The one bad thing is, it's going to be the hardest thing in the world to try and leave you today. Knowing you could care for me the same as I do for you…it's not easy to leave that behind. I've never had anything like that to leave behind. _

_The first time, while that was hard too, it was easier, because I didn't know. I hadn't told you how I felt; I hadn't held you; I hadn't kissed you. It hurts like hell to know that I'm leaving that behind; even more to know that I'm hurting you again. I swear, it was never my intention. _

_You don't know how badly I wish I could stay here with you. I felt more at home last night than I did in all the years I'd spent in Miami. I don't know if that emphasizes just how amazing last night was, or just how pathetic the rest of my life has been. I do know that I mean it when I say that last night was easily the most wonderful night of my life. _

_When I first realized that you had read my letter before I could get to it, I didn't know what I felt. I felt like an idiot, sure, because I'd screwed up and let my secret out. But then, I don't know, it was like relief; I was glad that you finally knew. I'd wanted you to know all along. You've always deserved the truth, Calleigh. _

_I guess now I just need you to know that if I had my way, I would never leave you. Never. And I need you to know that I'm not leaving you because I don't want to be with you. It kills me to think of this as goodbye, all over again. I have never loved anybody the way I love you, and I'll never be able to find anybody else like you. Rest assured, I don't even want to try. You're everything. You're my other half, and without you I know I'll never be whole again. But what hurts the most is knowing that you'll feel the same. It kills me that I've hurt you as much, if not more than I've hurt myself. _

_I'm so sorry, Calleigh. I'm sorry I lied to you; I'm sorry I kept so much from you. I'd give anything to stay here with you; I'd give anything to spend the rest of my life with you. _

_I love you. _

_-Tim _

But it was not the words in the body of the letter that made her heart skip a beat; that made her shiver with hope. No, it was what she found scrawled beneath the closing, beneath the signature that made her realize that not all was lost.

It was only a few extra lines, but there were no other few lines that could've made Calleigh more hopeful.

Scrawled at the very bottom of that letter was a Minnesota address.

_The end. _

* * *

**Well obviously, the saga can't quite end there, lol. There are at least two more parts to the series, but this one is done. A huge thanks to everybody who has read and/or reviewed this - I've definitely appreciated reading all your thoughts! So, thanks, and keep an eye out for part three. :)**


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